The Birth of the Season
The autumnal equinox coincided with the full moon.
The farm was hosting a celebration of lightness and harvest, and we were buzzing in vibration.
Costumes weren’t required, but those without them (like me) were out of place.
We stoked the single story high bonfire, and lit humorous cigarettes, breathing the herb deep into our lungs.
Someone thought margaritas were a good idea, and I gladly agreed.
Carl strummed his guitar and Janet (who was pretty weird) played her oboe.
We sat in beach chairs and dug our toes into the dirt.
We welcomed the season with chants and prayers, and spun out of the galaxy as the stars whirled overhead.