Autumnal Spirits

This is the trimester of incipient decline

Creeping ever so slowly toward darkness and gelidity 

Existence turns to a state of decay or dormancy or drudgery

Colossal skeletons sway and creak and moan

With slender angular limbs reaching out

In innumerable directions to snare unaware passersby 

Mummified forms of sundry sizes appear across the yard

Shrouded and bound with burlap to preserve their fragile bodies

Silently and patiently waiting to spook the unsuspecting  

Umber pixies circle and chase by whimsically in the wind

Tickling the toes and torsos of the skeletons and mummies

As they congregate in hushed hordes among the shadowy corners 

An unseen force of disembodied nature pushes and prods people along 

We scamper hurriedly as the whispers of ghosts upon the breeze fill our ears

Wraiths wailing in the distance conjure defensive images of being places safe and warm 

Fear not the autumnal spirits that haunt these times

They will be vanquished by a growing light of hope

But make the best of these twilight hours 

For wintertide approaches with the coming solstice…