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Caspar Veteran user Tacoma 316 Posts |
An Ode At Samhain
No more apples hang from the easy bough to be plucked by roundish hands No withered leaves lay on the riming ground to scattered by autumn wind The spider has fallen from her web that is now but listless gossamer The drunken bee can no longer find a draught and must for a season slumber Round the hearth we shall gather at the- evening time and with pricking melody thy story shall be- told then with sincerity the candle shall be lit to quicken the young, to comfort the old and that you may find your way back home. A glass of Blackberry wine is poured and set upon the mantle as the family and guests sit for dinner. As the evening ends and everyone departs the glass is found to be empty. |
fingerjack Special user CT, USA 574 Posts |
Very cool. Bradbury would be proud.
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Caspar Veteran user Tacoma 316 Posts |
Thanks
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