Wind rushes around the house, pale spirits like curled leaves
Dancing in its hurried wake.
The air prickles, promise-laden: still, like a held breath,
Fat, and pregnant like the full moon riding the sky.
In the sky gauzy wisps of clouds race, billowing;
Tattered bits of the veil between the worlds.
Velvety Night drapes the street in folds around
The querulous light of lamps and porches.
Through the freed darkness, people move;
Some creep and scurry, light to light,
Hurrying to each fragile, sterile bubble with held breath.
But the others- they ride the darkness, cherish it,
Wrapping the possibilities and the night about them
Like welcoming arms. They are not timid, on this
Festival night of secrets and whispered things.
They grasp the unseen, look beyond, choose to become
Unafraid.