Is there a fire burning somewhere near?
The smell of Halloween floats on the air,
Not heavy-hanging wood-fire smoke, but bright
And fast like sparklers fizzing gunpowder:
A crackling blaze that bristles on the wind.
The waft of tea lights flickering against
The charred black ceiling of their pumpkin heads
Is dark and full as earth’s entombing kiss.
The moon alight with jack-o-lantern glow,
The stars stark white just like a host of ghosts
Where clear sky holds the gentle tang of rot,
The fallen apple’s ferment, cider sour,
Sharp spice of leaves that tumble all around,
and must of fresh-turned dirt and sweet wet grass.
The name of all these memories escapes
My heart, to hover just before my eyes
A cloud dissolving as it joins the sky
And all those burning, dying, aching smells,
A gasp of soul that leaps to join the march
Of footfalls that we cannot hear and names
Forgotten to the depths of time. Will night
Forever feel this way on Halloween?
The prick of fear and hitch of breath,
To know one foot in winter and in death,
But cling to energy’s ascending buzz
That raises all the hairs on craning necks.
We cast a look behind us, as compelled,
By feeling something must be there and yet
Are only met with whispers of a smell
of fire burning somewhere near, and else,
Unnameable and hidden in plain sight.
From depths of earth up to the firmament,
The tingle of familiar, unseen,
This jolt of sensory, pursuing me,
As if October’s dying breath possessed
Me, fast decaying, yet, commanding me to live.