October

 

 

I'm never sure where I'm supposed to be

until the moon comes swollen over the hill.

Without some light at night it's hard to see.

 

Walk boldly through the dark and find a tree

whose leaves give rustle in the wind so chill.

I'm never sure where I'm supposed to be.

 

Don't let the trail convey you to the sea,

where hungry ghosts invite you to the kill.

Without some light at night it's hard to see.

 

The willow branches' twisting witchery,

framed by the moon, is beckoning me still.

I'm never sure where I'm supposed to be.

 

Mossy rocks are climbers' enemy

And climbing in the dark takes more than skill.

Without some light at night it's hard to see.

 

Sight is not what's frightening. I can flee

a vision but that voice pursues me still.

I'm never sure where I'm supposed to be.

Without some light at night it's hard to see.

 

© 2000 Gregor Everitt