story for October

 
today skip over the spirits that grip
spit and rise twist the blade and I'm off
sulking in the background is a disturbance
sticking in my mind the beautiful trees
the orchard inviting sings to me

soon I am daydreaming
then I feel someone watching my reverie
reaching for my knife
practicing unsheathing it quickly
with a flick of the rist
an old grand dad
waiting for skin

somewhere in time my soul remembers
hand to hand combat
with a ready nod I let the trees know
should he approach
I'll go down on sacred dirt

he won't take me off the field
secrets flow through me
no blood will touch my dagger today
he has retreated into the shade
then back to the scorching sun of hate

I feel the trees break their formation
and the shadows sigh