Old year's day
approaches, winter settles
into a stubborn grey sky
withering the horizon.

Traces of sun glint
diabolical patterns
through ghostly pallor,
on its northern sojourn.

Its shadow cast,
gravity gets heavier
as the sky falls
& death smells.

Out of sight, unconscious,
sounds of a beaten anvil
& someone fires a gun,
an enemy, then pantheon.

*Samhuinn is the Old Year's Day
according to the Celtic Calandar,
and night of witches,
which the Christian tradition
adapts to Halloween.

Copyright Robin Ouzman Hislop 2004
All rights reserved.