I spent October inside, until fall had fled
Stresses proliferated, and a hospital bed
I missed the foliage on the Adirondacks high
Yellow, orange and red against the blue sky
I remembered where I had seen colors before
Just 40 miles from my cottage door.
An old Dutch Church, built in 1697
And the graveyard behind, a waystation to heaven.
I made my way south and walked up the hill
Between mausoleums were trees and the color would spill
copper and red and orange and gold.
I let it sink in, and peace took hold.
A stone path opened up a Hudson River scene
I was the only one there, it felt so serene
Then a cloud drifted west, colors lost hue
Like a muted repainting of that grave-framed view.
I've seen death before, and one thing I knew
The saddest words in life were "nothing more we can do"
I wondered if those words were sometimes incorrect
and I thought just coming for colors might show disrespect.
But many come to see the place, most for history
to see the resting place of Irving, Celtic cross of Carnegie.
And we all join the ranks; we all pay life's cost.
There's no going back, once the river is crossed.
Headless horseman came in the dead of night, but he made no sound.
His stallion did though – it neighed and whinnied and twirled around.
You must have been in Sleepy Hollow a relative said.
He is more unimaginative than a skeleton dead.
The day innocence disappeared
As life was created down by the Sleepy Hollow
The days of great sayings
Children bringing up children
We did okay for a time
Sadly, maturity does what it always does
Brings new horizons
Sets new goals
We were okay about it
Others weren’t
Maybe they couldn’t see beyond the hill
Time moved on, and the bond was broken
Years later, you found your soulmate
A second child was born
I found out later, a girl
I was leading my life
So in a way, it wasn’t my business
Just made it more final in a way
I agreed you should take full custody
It was the right thing to do
Upset some
But it was always me and you
I passed by the Sleepy Hollow
Maybe just to understand
It was wild and overgrowing
Pushing further to the road
Someday it would reach beyond the hill
Never looking back
I would be waiting.
Legend around these parts strike terror in some
When I first heard it I swallowed my gum
What was his name? I asked. No one knew
He comes out at night in the fog of blue hue.
He’s the ghost of a Hessian soldier all alone.
Was beheaded in the Revolutionary war far from home.
He rides in silence, striking people down with terror
Sleepy Hollow Legend, no way in error.
My Great aunt told me she had seen this headless hunk.
She was so shocked she fell down with a thunk.
He haunts the towns on this side of Bunker Hill.
To this day, giving our youth a scare and a thrill.
Written March 14th, 2020
Contest: Your Favorite Legend
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
An yawning
chasm
where I once held
my heart; it's
empty
again.
Waking, unto another day; trying to think of anything to say
Going through the motions as a beta amid their little fish bowl
Swimming in tiny circles empty walls past blurred glass; warped images
Distorted reality hoping that whomever will pour a vile of white wine into my mind
A cube of ice to chill it's pen alleviate the burn while waiting for some imitation frosted
Flakes belly up lying atop their blue as red deep sea pebbles; gazing beyound his daydreams
Bubbles bemused muddled voices charmed her mosquito, sipping my intoxication ? H2o, doing time.
International terrorists in a figurative sense and growing numb to this slaughter...
Bewitched they believe that there is no god aside thee ? Fixations, fashioned figurines
Chanting off with their heads the middle class row his Cu Clux Plan from her Southern poll ?
Shouting someone get love's gun out of Bobbie Woe's hand; Guildman Saxe, these be foreign sands.
nook tucked in shaded woodland
cradle nestles in scrub-growth
soothing wind sings lullaby
in sleepy hollow
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