Tuatha de Danaan
|Posted on October 19, 2014 at 11:05 PM|
Mama Moonlight Pumpkin, timid and white, made it through four feet of frosty snow.
How she was able, I'll never know.
After Saint Valentine's her sweet surprised look had passed away.
But, something secret, magic, had already begun that day.
Seeds, frozen, dreaming, tucked in winter's bed,
began to lift their pale green heads,
and reached up soft swimming arms,
responsive to Saint Valentine's love it may have seemed,
for by Easter Sunday the wooly vines had been weaned,
from their Mama Pumpkin, who was now a shriveled shift,
caught a light wind, and drifted away.
The new orphaned wards trusted Mother Nature,
dug, crawled, climbed, danced along the warming ground,
and by The Fourth of July, spot lit,
shooting bright floral fireworks towards the heavens.
Each big flower hoping to be Halloween stars,
loosening petal paper ponchos, revealing who they really are.
For, yes, again, it's the pumpkin parade,
seven new pumpkins, shining, what a sight,
when they're decked-out on Halloween night!