It's time to light the lanterns
Keep them lit real bright
For someone's out there hunting
On this the darkest night

Each Halloween folks say
A creature breaks the veil
And runs off with a child
And therein lies our tale

Keep watch when you are camping
Or just walking in the park
You don't know if it's watching
To take you far into the dark

They say it is a moss man
Made of spanish moss and sticks
Light and ninja quiet
You don't know just who he'll pick

The story tells of many
Who've gone missing through the years
Some say it's just a legend
To play upon our fears

Look around the circle
See the person close to you
Hold their hand real tight now
Before they're taken too

Feel a breeze so soft and gentle
Hear the wind there in your ear
Take care now when you hear it
You don't want to disappear

A creature from the dark times
As old as time they say
A thousand years or older
Still, it's hunting to this day

Feel that tickle on your ankle
Hear that twig break there behind
Is it coming now to get you?
Or is it only in your mind

Keep the fire burning
If you are camping in the wood
And have somebody watching
For when it's out, it is no good

Do you listen to it's whispers?
Do you try to run away?
Protect yourself with light now
And live to see another day

It's waiting and it's watching
From a distance or real near
Is that the animals there moving
Or is it him that you may hear

No one know where he is hiding
Those taken, never seen
You don't know he's out there watching
Hiding in his coat of mossy green

They say it once was human
But, through magic, is no more
The moss man, is he legend
Or is the moss man local lore

Light the lanterns, and sleep tightly
Make it to the new days sun
Count all those around you
For tonight,you may lose one

Feel a tickle, hear a whistle
Hear a twig, or gentle voice
Sleep tightly or keep watching
It's up to you, you make the choice

Goodnight Campers.

It is for no ill will, no caprice on the part of fire, but for love. Man wakens fire from sleep, feeds her, cares for her, and keeps her alive. And so she smiles on him with friendly light, warms him, whispers to him mysterious songs, and drives away all that would sting, bite, harass, or harm. For as man loves fire, so fire loves man and delights in his company, all the more in wild and lonely places.

On main street in Sharpsburg
the man who always sits outside
is in his usual place,
and I wave to him on the drive home.
After eating in the sun, and the books
and the pet store. My sister and I
talk about it and I tell white lies
on the phone. About how I’m still
coming to Utah and how I’ve found
a place to live, but I can’t go there yet –
the truth, but slant. I keep hoping
I’ll know what to do on Monday.
It’s spring, and I mark the time
by the dead deer with necks twisted back
lining the sides of the roads. Since yesterday,
the ugly parts stand out more.

Tonight I went to the river
to visit my friends and help them
make a campfire. Something I’ve always
been good at – arranging sticks,
even green ones, so they go up in flames.
We toast marshmallows and I sit close
to the ground, so my face is hot.
They leave for a little while, and I watch
the flames spread alone and listen
to the spring peepers. In the creek beside
the river they are deafening, and I want
to cover my ears on the walk back to my car.
But I leave them be, and let the cries pour in –
I know what it’s like, to be small,
to want to make noise in the world.

picture us,
lawn chairs and faces black, like kettles left
out go our hands and dark palms
For now we, the migrants
our knuckles on city doors not ours
humbled to our toes this star-less cold
dining room dreams, now on fire, mercy our new coat
neighborly faces take hands
washing them over buckets though nothing
there was no wall

Orange is a color to be recognized.
It is the color of a pumpkin with a demon surprise.
On Halloween it is all carved out with jagged teeth.
Take the pumpkin it is all carved out, a top, and a candle underneath

Orange is the color of Autumn.
When the leaves turn color is it not awesome?
They fall to the ground, a plucked feather.
The season of Autumn, what time could be better?

It is also the color of a basketball.
The seasons usually start in autumn as well.
Dribble and pass, drive, or shoot, your choice
When the buzzer beater is made the fans show their voice.

Orange is the color of a citrus fruit known by the same name.
It is also part of breakfast if you drink you could rise to fame.
Because of the old saying of “early to bed..”.
Can make you in the morning quick to lift your head.

Orange is also the color of a campfire;
With the provoked embers ready to inspire;
The tails that are scary;
With monsters that seem a little too hairy.

As you can see the color orange can inspire a great many things.
When you think of it I hope it inspires dreams.
Orange is the color for your creation.
Wherever you live no condemnation.

The fire fills the wood
It's orange embers glowing-
summer smells so good.

With steel and flint
We strike a spark
Our hope,
to burn away the dark

A simple spark
Not all it seems
To ward off fears
rekindle dreams

Shield it well
And give it air
Feed it's needs
And take good care

And from that spark
A flame will grow
To heat the soul
And rid your woe