(The Autumnal Equinox September 21st Northern Hemisphere)

Mabon, the witches thanksgiving,
night and day are equally long.
Just before sunset, we gather
sharing in harmony and song.

Flocking to our set bon fire site
adding fuel to the new spark,
careful to not let it die out
in welcoming the rising dark.

Hearts gladden with new promises,
as smoke rises so do our dreams,
fire grows with each new addition
of cardboard and old paper reams.

Elephant

your ivory
embellishes
my rare
African Zebra pillow

long live
my comforts

BOARDWALK SECRETS

The lovers had their very own secret place
Under the boardwalk after the sun had set
A nightly tryst hadn’t been discovered yet
And being so careful not to leave any trace

But that evening, meeting on time as agreed
They were greeted with a most awful sight
A body drained of blood, so pale and white
Yet still smiling, as if its soul had been freed

There stood a majestic
Craggy face with razor blade
Edges of a monstrous
time honoured mountain

Turning its rocky nose up
at anything below him, robust
Jagged and risky, high stabbing
armour with White shark tip
Cut throated fins.

Bald rugged with a silent manner
cold stone as white as marshmallow
steep and strong, bold and old
broad frosted shoulders

With powdered freckles and a storm grey
complexion it wore a white necklace
and a frosted crown, made
by heaven.

A blue moon is out
the stars are shining.
The world is not
what I want it to be.

The vagabond stands
in streets that are shining.
As visions of hope
trespass transparently!

Following footsteps down
darkened alleyways.
Wishing that something
could offer reprieve.

Mindful I'm conjuring
themes of injustice
Trying to compose
something more to appease.

Then with a wish
I look to the heavens.
Asking of God
to assign their relief.

I Can Hardly Wait
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

My friend said life moves in circles
Like the seasons
To comfort me when I was grieving,
And I still hear her words in my mind.

Oh, how I soaked up all the sunlight.
How I felt it giving me life,
As I buried my feet in the sand
Beside the sea.

But the darkness is coming sooner.
The leaves are losing their emerald colour.
I just know
They’re about to set afire.

We have
Lost our road,
Drowning
In shallow waters.

Trust, once noble and honored,
Is now just a sign
For the restroom.

Evil became
A trash can
That never gets
Emptied.

How long will we say yes
To a madness
That infects more
Than any pandemic?

Are we content
Being revolving doors—
Letting insanity
Become a citizen
Instead of a prisoner
Serving life?

It doesn’t matter
Who owns the house—
If you don’t rid it of rodents,
They multiply.

Survival of one wreath speck table insect,
(poll ease pod din me Elmer Fudd speak)
thus earning hardy laurels
nsync with inxs of standing kudos
ranking as bajillion year old species
scientific name: Periplaneta americana
(Linnaeus) Insecta: Blattodea: Blattidae)
throve for more than 300 million years,
not surprisingly they constitute
one of the oldest groups of insects on the earth.

This ground that we stand upon is 4.6 billion years in the making.
The rivers, lakes, valleys that we stretch our limbs upon are unfathomably old,
from long before our species walked this earth.

It took 4.6 billion years to make you,
and me, and all of us inhabitants.
4.6 billion years behind us, and yet what’s ahead is still uncertain.

How lucky are we to exist in these forms?
How many butterflies must’ve flapped their wings for me to be born,
and raised by the trees and mountains around upstate New York?

Would, that I could
For myself, choose!
One perpetual mood
And all the rest, set loose!

Just but one emotion I shan't rue.
Joy and her flock just wouldn't do
Banish one, banish all
Leave nothing but the blues.

In all their glorious madness,
Nothing has ever been sweeter
Nothing ever kinder.
O, if only I could be sad forever

Take an axe to love,
All her bonds, sever.
Renounce that pilgrim, glee,
Commit my soul to sorrow,

Make her master of me.