Thinning Veils Between the Worlds

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Hallowed Night

On Halloween the veil thins

to make ready for visitors.

I find the linen tablecloth, 

place lit candles inside

carved pumpkins,

set a basket of green apples 

from the gnarled tree that stands

in front of the house.

Thick creamy milk from Chase Hill 

cows is poured into mugs,

wedges of homemade bread 

slathered with butter is set out.

Hot teas, both mint and black, 

a measure of whiskey for dad.

This night, a gathering comes. 

I wait with anticipation 

under orange streaked sky.

There’s a shift, a soft hum,

before the air begins to stir.

Welcome the old ones 

this Halloween Eve, the

sidhe and nature spirits,

ancestors who travel through

rivers of blood, others  

who follow the stars tonight,

to join this gathering.

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About elainereardon

Poet, writer, gardener, herbalist, pottery, painting—bumping into magic, peeking around new corners.
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