On Hallowe’en, the earth bears gifts of gold, Pumpkins swell, the squash begins to fold.
The harvest yields its bounty rich and bright, And I give thanks beneath the autumn light.
But as I walk, the shadows start to creep, And whisper secrets that the dark can keep.
For Samhain stirs, the Celtic year’s rebirth, Where ghosts and goblins rise from out the earth.
My mind, so tethered to the harvest’s might, Now feels the phantoms in the night.
The rational speaks of grain and seed, But still, the restless spirits sow their greed.
A headless rider gallops through the gloom, While witches weave their spells beneath the moon.
I walk between these worlds, both rich and strange – The earth’s abundance, and the night’s wild change.
The harvest calls, yet something darker grows, As from the underworld, the cold wind blows.
At this time of year, I feel an eerie presence swirling around me in the darkness on my walk home. As I did in my youth, I can’t help but pick up the pace and finally break into a run!
To work magic is to weave the unseen forces into form; to soar beyond sight; to explore the uncharted dream realm of the hidden reality. – Starhawk from Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach
My childhood Hallowe’en costumes were always some variation on the witch theme, with the capes becoming more and more elaborate as the years went on. I think I fared better than my siblings who opted for ghost garb.
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead; from The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The spirits of the dead swirled all around me on my walk today.
