Midnights of icy bonfires,
Where glowing static fills the air,
Dew laden mosses line the grounds,
And the trees howl a draconian chant,
Sensually whispering wisely

The skies beset with incendiary dust,
Shivering with eternal ignition,
Overlaid by wisps of orange flame,
And pierced by a biblical arc of off white,
Plunging through the powdered cloud

Imagine the silence save the forest,
The hiss and whine the flaming pine exudes,
Ignoring the distant rumble of civilisation,
As if all that one could see was all,
Frequenting a time prior to clock and calendar

With all that one has left behind,
The ethereal reflected,
Between forest floor and night sky,
The smell of char and moist woodland,
This be hallows eve.