The New Year of the Old Ones; Halloween
Winter is near; a chance for us to glean
the final harvest; last of summer's green.
The resting of the land;the coldest days
to come; bare fields, hedges with icy glaze.
The morning mist, the evening's smoky haze.
A time for us to rest; to go within.
Remember those departed,friends or kin.
Tonight the veil between the worlds is thin.
A time to read the omens; time to heed
the guidance given for our future need.
To meditate on where our paths may lead.
A time for apple ducking, bonfires bright.
Lest we become too serious as we might.
Let children play their tricks; it's Mischief Night.
The Hunter's moon is setting;dawn is nigh.
On frosted hedgerows, broken cobwebs lie.
From skeletons of trees the last leaves fly.
In drab woods under leaves of gray
and brown, half-hidden brighter colours may
be glimpsed; toadstools, life burdting from decay.
A cycle ends; the whole of Nature grieves.
But Mother Earth her web of life re-weaves.
And buds lie underneath the blackened leaves.