you heard a samhain tale today, but you could
have missed the meaning at first, as the sky
dropped cold, cold and rain. the wind added
to the dialogue. we all are in that limbo between
perfect heaven and a slot under a gnarled tree,
a threshold to a` ` land you don’t belong. but they’ll
take you there, to a land you don’t belong. stay strong.
as I asked before, and think about the measure you missed:
softly chuckling river. the chill is falling and so it is frantic.
you can get back the stories, if you heard that samhain was
whispered on a breeze, and you predictably hear it with ease.
you’re losing the plot, stay sharp, stay hot.