Between the Cracks

Between the Cracks - A Decima

A northern autumn. There's no light
to show where land and sky should meet.
The midday sun, beneath our feet,
impersonates a moonless night
where we fight off ideas of fright,
fear of darkness, what it will mean
to fall into the cracks between
the things we think we know and those
tempting treats that we somehow chose
to shun, that trick of Halloween.

Categorized as Licks

By Arthur Richardson

Very part time poem maker. Retired from paid work.

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