All Hallow's Yule

is
it
not the
longest night
when the sun falls half
between equinox and solstice
in that darkness dead faces wink and smile in bonfires
we hide from them in costumes divert them with carved squash shells and fill our husks high with sweets
lying to ourselves this dying thing is all a game
our dead retreat-days grow shorter
till that white sunrise
it dawns on
us that
it
is