everyday is halloween!

October-November

by hart crane

Indian-summer-sun

With crimson feathers whips away the mists,—

Dives through the filter of trellises

And gilds the silver on the blotched arbor-seats.

 

Now gold and purple scintillate

On trees that seem dancing

In delirium;

Then the moon

In a mad orange flare 

Floods the grape-hung night.

boo!