Conjuring the Eternal

The flames rise higher,
Higher and swirling they entwine.
Together and masking the forest dance of so many divine.

It begins with the first blast of cold, the shield covers the faces
And beckons those chanting the fire song to sing in unison.

The last figure it sees is upon the moon and in this cocoon of warmth,
The last note of the fire song dies in unison.

Invisible

There is no solace in the attic,
There are foot prints of mice and spiders that call it their home.

I have known of gatherings that would turn the blood cold.

Come back home when the moon begins to wane, to unfold the letters where
horror stories are written.

Dearest old beast who hides in the invisible house.

Home

She resides in the attic,
Dressed with cobwebs and smiles,
She waits patiently for her husband and sons to come home.
This year, the harvest provided the biggest and reddest of apples.
Next door, the pear tree produced none.
Upon the ridge is the steady flow of traffic,
No more horse carriages and first time cars getting stuck in the mud.
The house she lives in was built in 1924. Protecting all that come in
and humming to herself as she prepares a meal.
The house that still is blessed with it's original wood work and that Swedish charm.