Edge

Today I follow the small, black fin of a harbor porpoise.

I run. It swims. I run until I am out of breath and the fin is out of sight.

Yellow, the center of a flower, in the leaves and on the wall.

The long of it. And the short of it.

Walk until the edge is out of sight.

Cole's Halloween Poem

What Happens to a Thing from Halloween In November
by: Cole S. Cunningham

Ghosts groan
candy rots
witches go to China.

Zombies take the day off.
A Jack-O-Lantern is useless.

Now cats are just cats.

Bats go in caves.
Skeletons shatter down to their graves
bones and all.

It's stormy
the moon won't be glowing
like it did on Halloween night.

Halloween's frightened by November.

Halloween masks don't give people a fright
it's November.

No more spiders no more rats.
It's November.

Halloween is over.