The Thirtyfirst

The Thirtyfirst

Chilled, no doubt the night
air felt
October’s final sigh.
A cloud as though a pillow
torn
threw feathers in the sky.

As summoned barking seized my heart
in rough
staccato time,
with dripping jaws the steamy breath
was puffed
though in my mind.

A bloated ghost with homely
stare, a
feeling not alone...
was floating there above me
where, a
lunar goblin shone.

Hastening then, the chase to end
and never
wond’ring why.
Chilled no doubt, the night
I felt
October’s final sigh.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2006