Guest Post: Closed For The Season

   by Joann Storck

     I  walked the lane where the tree people used to talk to each other about the children who were passing by.  They were silent today.

     I looked up to see if the sky were as tantalizingly blue like it always was in the golden days.  It was one shade off.

     I passed through the stalks of corn standing straight, brown, and sturdy waiting to be picked.  The cobs held only gold kernels:  none of them were maroon.

     The tables that held all the mums, pumpkins and gourds stand on only 3 legs if any at all.  Neglect claimed their usefulness.

     I closed my eyes and cocked my head to listen for the sound of the hay wagon returning its passengers, happy and pleased.  It was faint, but I can still hear it with my heart.

     I made a wish and blew a kiss to the moon that you are watching us keeping you near.