Samhain
Even the air is thin.
The giving ground cracks
in brittle bones
underfoot the dust of things scatter
as ice shards. Every step leaves a track
marked
by crushed moss, shattered leaves, broken
branches
no matter how gently passed things
break
and snap
sending sparks weaving in spirals
across one veil, then another
under a deepening sky. Samhain sifts
what has come
to pass
even as the flames leap
forward, eager to reveal
the season’s light
burning like a new star
within every broken thing.
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