Now six o'clock and blood-red sun succumbs
to the surge of the horizon and Lo!
twilight gives birth to gloom,
mounts the six steps to the gargoyle threshold
where I keep picket at the pane.
And the glass looks back -
a specter, golden-haired and fawn-eyed seethes in anticipation:
Samhain!

And as the pitch spreads upon my brow,
the sheers at the window are stirred
by a biting breeze and something still!
Night-black candle sparks, blue-grey smoke undulates,
releases the scent of patchouli and ambergris.
I breathe deeply and touch the breast
where lies screaming -

Again, through the casement the something comes and
I steel! In the gathering mist my Druid ancestors
speak their pagan tongues; and whisper, whisper, then spit ...
my name!

I answer, race past the gargoyle gate.
My sable coat catches imps along the way.
I swoop through nearby necropolis - they, too, join in my journey;
with ultraviolet gaze they understand -
tonight, evil reigns.

Soon I reach wickerwork woodlands and slow my pace
to hear owl greetings and six bats in joyful dirge.
And there are, too, black cats all together
playing ring-around-a-rosie, and dancing and singing.
And I join in their song of death:
my new beginning.

Then I am among them in the forest grove;
upon my arrival the black-robed ones cease their incantations and
the necromancer adorns me a chalice.
It brims blood-red as knife plunges - Glorious!
We commence the coronation and praise the coming of
the New Year!