11-01-2011, 10:56 AM
The night is full of empty lawns
and hallways barely glimpsed.
Children pass in small clusters
with pillowcases and pumpkins.
Doors open then close,
emitting giggles and murmurs.
As you pass under a tree
a red leaf falls on your shoulder.
You grab for it then laugh,
brush it to the ground.
Even trees have a sense of humour.
Somewhere an egg breaks
on a wall. An old man swears.
Laughter and retreating bikes.
This is the night for jackanapes,
I whisper as you pass.
and hallways barely glimpsed.
Children pass in small clusters
with pillowcases and pumpkins.
Doors open then close,
emitting giggles and murmurs.
As you pass under a tree
a red leaf falls on your shoulder.
You grab for it then laugh,
brush it to the ground.
Even trees have a sense of humour.
Somewhere an egg breaks
on a wall. An old man swears.
Laughter and retreating bikes.
This is the night for jackanapes,
I whisper as you pass.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe