I walk the vibrant woods
Noting the russet ground
And misty air
Feeling the first winds of fall
A slight chill makes me shiver
Pulling my cape tight
The scent of burning leaves
Lingers in crisp air
Like incense
I bite into an apple
And taste the lusciousness
Of this years harvest
While the brittle resonance of leaves
Rustle beneath each step
On the forest trail
My senses are alive
As I walk beside my ancestors
Blessed Samhain
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