Listen in close the first note of Mother Tree’s canopy pumpkin burns eyes of sky 

gives up beauty a gossamer spring (as sadly hunters knock on heaven) our  

feet hold the memory fallen tree holds our bodies warming earth 

gives a little more time whilst dancing leaves turn your friends to swaying take

just as long as they do.

* Our exquisite corpse, a collective poem to which each poet blindly contributes a line or phrase following a rule or theme — in this case a Samhain circle in the oak-hickory woods — as we ourselves are wildly drawn together. Photos by Tessa Wedberg and Jack Phillips. Poem by Kara, Barb, Joelle, Billie, Corson, Dana, Laura, Tessa, and Jack.