Day Ninety-four

Today's words:

Chair

Witch

Jury

Napkin

Egg

Gears

As she sat on the chair

On the witness stand, the accused witch

Faced the jury.

She twisted a napkin

In her hands,

Her skin pale as an egg

Shell. You could almost see the gears

Turning in her mind, gears

Looking for the words to say as she sat in the chair,

Her fate as fragile as an egg.

In this day and age, to be accused of being a witch

Is just about unheard-of. She tore the napkin

And faced the jury.

"You may think you can judge me," she said to the jury,

"But you need to change gears."

She threw the shredded napkin

To the ground and stood up from her chair.

"I'm no more a witch

"Than I am an egg."

With egg

On their faces, the members of the jury

Recognized that the woman couldn't be a witch,

Or, changing gears,

If she was it was hardly a crime. A new witness took the chair,

Sweeping away the remnants of the napkin.

I spread the napkin

On my lap as I prepared to eat the egg

Sandwich before me. I shifted in my chair

And thought of the verdict delivered by the jury,

Which shifted the gears

Of the court in judging the witch.

No, being a witch

Is no crime. I wiped the corners of my mouth with the napkin

And turned the gears

On the peppermill over the egg

Sandwich. Finished eating, I prepared to return to the jury

Room and got up from my chair.

A witch can cause an egg

To go bad. I took the napkin with me as I returned to the jury

Room, changing my mental gears before getting back in that chair.