Overread at the Counter: Walking my Dogs the Morning After Halloween

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Walking my Dogs the Morning After Hallowe'en


Walking my dogs the morning after Hallowe'en
and there are no more voices now, no
tips and tats of laughter from little
ghoulies and zombies and bumblebees and
soccer players, but merely the shades
of their laughter, left here in the morning mist

as my dogs sniff through the grass for traces
of their passed comrades, and the occasional
Kit-Kat wrapper, and the

pumpkin door decor are now
slightly askew, as though already tired of
the end of year holiday trinity, I wonder
how they'll manage Thanksgiving, Christmas, will

there be any laughter left at New Years?

The streetlamps backlight the black leaved trees,
stretching their beams through the mist
as though thick fingers of hazed light are grabbing
at the branches

peeling them back

to reveal all that is obscured.