All Hallows Day

The pumpkin-and-squash colored light
of this fresh All Hallows dawn
burns within leaves yellow and bright
with a gold glow newly drawn.
The linen mists swathe sleepy hills
and the knobs are patchwork hues
of Autumnal quilts, their dark frills
deep with cool shadowy blues.
The train is a groggy old grump
that grumbles at its own passing,
glimpsed in between each leaf-heaped hump,
its speed slowly amassing.
The river is a silent dream
from which the thick fog rouses
like steam from the coffee and cream
which wakes folks in the houses.
Halloween night has come and gone
and children return to school
wearing no costumes as they yawn,
their heads and their bellies full
of candy gathered door to door
with the shrill “Trick or Treat!” call,
empty wrappers dropped on the floor
and drifting like leaves of Fall.
Samhain bonfires are but ashes,
the smoke now gone with the night
each fire snuffed, though the sun flashes
like flames through trees set alight.

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