leaves scurry across the walk
trees groan; hear them talk
cool moon glides between clouds
shades slip past, cloaked in shrouds
embers flicker inside gourd eyes
gleaning truth from each disguise
flames leap high; wind moans low
smoke casts ghosts amid the glow
hear the footsteps of Samhain, children
know that death glides by your door
remember the year past beside the Cauldron
keep the wisdom of the ancient lore
We work in the Dark; we give what we have. Our Doubt is our passion- our passion is our task, and the rest is the madness of art. -Henry James
