THE WALK TO OCTOBER
Hidden burrows and secret hills
Covered with moss and dead things
opening now sooner and sooner
To release their cloaked inhabitants.
The night no longer required for stealth
the Good Folk roam freely
At first in the twilight
But later at any time with boldness.
For the tide has changed now
And the beings of light return to their source
Leaving the canvas of Earth
To be reclaimed by the hidden ones.
|The tiny dens of the Good Folk.|