No fear from these cats on Halloween.

 Probably no dreams of goblins or skeletons, either.  Treats, of course.  Every evening like clockwork.  

Waiting for a raven

to transgress.  Waiting for a raven to deliver a message as memory recedes.  

 

Halloween

 and the veil slim and porous.  Let us be open to remembering. 

Here in the weaving of leaves

the sound of stories being passed down whenever the air stirs or an animal scurries.  Scimitar pens.  

The story of an extraction.

 Science + large machinery = dismemberment. Somehow, it's fitting that the crane is fire-engine red.  

How I wish to remember her.

How?  By her muscular bicep. The backstory?  Recently 3 giant eucalyptuses were felled by our house.  It was a prudent decision, but I miss their grace.  Their stories.  They alive in memory.  

The disembodied tree

tries to find its branches.  Its roots.  Sky accommodates as best it can given such short notice.  

 

What do you think?

Is this an occurrence of something once whole being shattered?   Or pieces coalescing.  The world needs to hear from you.  

When night becomes your mantle

 it is time for tea and a book.  Or because it is the season, a conversation with the beloved dead.  

Waiting for momentum

to occur.  Waiting for the pinwheel to move from right to left.  

 

The first of the season

 A giant tree insect seen hovering over the eucalyptus.  What owlish being is perched on the upper branches.  Well, it is Halloween.  

The season of the rotund

 with a tad of scary -- or is it sinister?