Poetry Sunday

Today is the second of this month's three Halloween-themed Poetry Sundays, and we turn to poet Louise Glück for this eerie and unsettling poem ...

All Hallows

by Louise Glück

Even now this landscape is assembling.

The hills darken. The oxen

sleep in their blue yoke,

the fields having been

picked clean, the sheaves

bound evenly and piled at the roadside

among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises:

This is the barrenness

of harvest or pestilence.

And the wife leaning out the window

with her hand extended, as in payment,

and the seeds

distinct, gold, calling

Come here

Come here, little one

And the soul creeps out of the tree.

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. Beware of souls creeping out of scary trees.

More thoughts coming. 

Bilbo