Dry autumn leaves scrape against the sidewalk;
The wind pushes them into the interim season.
Jack-o-lanterns preside over the evening,
Trickster ushers for a night of reprise,
Beacons to children weary of realities,
Landing signals to ghosts hungry for them.
Ethereal spirits escape their tombs to mingle with the air
Of suburban neighborhoods,
Brushing against barren oak branches, mowed lawns, silent rooftops,
Sampling the textures of the living.
Children occupy a new body, borrowing a ghost’s persona.
They leap free from their doorsteps, skipping into the anonymity of darkness,
Minds peeled for mysteries, catching tingles like fireflies.
Their imaginations ascend toward the realm between ghostly clouds and the unseen moon,
Sampling the infinities of the dead.
