Wednesday, October 29, 2014

In the Corn

In the corn, the night air rustles;
only by moonlight the clouds allow
and a voice whispering in the stalks,
"Turn back now." 
Silken threads dangle from ears,
spun gold only nature can endow.
Stumbling over knots and bends...
"Turn back now."

Scattered straw dripping from sleeves,
a silhouette dipped in a bow.
The head rises, paper skin lifting,
"It's too late to turn back now."

Happy Halloween....

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