Casting call for Halloween

As I watch swaying treetops at wood's edge, I can see effects of those breezes that are bringing warmer air to us. They're also making tumble grass (Eragrostis spectabilis) seedheads fly around so they look like ghost skeletons practicing for Halloween. The same seedheads must keep tumbling back and forth as the winds change direction, because I don't think there's enough grass around here to produce fresh heads for weeks on end.

purple lovegrass in Summer

Photo by J. Harrington

If you look very carefully in the photo below, you might be able to spot a seedhead being blown in front of the pines, about in the center. At dusk or dawn, when the light is grey and thin, if there's a cluster of them being blown down the road, they make me wonder what lost souls look like, or if I'm simply seeing answers blowing in the wind.

lovegrass seedhead windblown past some pines

Photo by J. Harrington

[UPDATE: Just after posting, I went to see about take some more photos. As I reached the end of the driveway, a heaven-sent breeze swirled seedheads in front of the neighbor's barn. Easier to see than just the one above.]

seedheads swirling in front of a red barn

Photo by J. Harrington

Night Images

By Robert Fitzgerald 

Late in the cold night wakened, and heard wind,   

And lay with eyes closed and silent, knowing   

These words how bodiless they are, this darkness   

Empty under my roof and the panes rattling   

Roughed by wind. And so lay and imagined   

Somewhere far off black seas heavy-shouldered   

Plunging on sand and the ebb off-streaming and   

Thunder forever. So lying bethought me, friend,   

What traffic ghouls have, or this be legend,   

In low inland hollows of the earth, under

Shade of moon, the night moaning, and bitter frost;   

And feared the riches of my bones, long given   

Into this earth, should tumble to their hands.   

No girl or ghost beside me, and I lonely,   

Remembering gardens, lilac scent, or twilight   

Descending late in summer on that town,   

I lay and found my years departed from me,   

And feared the cold bed and the wind, absurdly   

Alone with silence and the trick of tears.

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