Sweet the smell of apple squeezin's
The air is dark with hosts
No stars can show a glimmer
And the world is full of ghosts

The moon on the horizon
Is a gateway from the earth
A glowing orange portal
Growing from embers on my hearth

I walk with quickened footsteps
What has kept me out so late?
Leaves around my ankles swirl
As I hurry to my fate

Pull my garments even tighter
The breeze is crisp with chill
I cannot quite remember...
Yet I hurry forward still

I know each late October
When the darkness comes around
Before allowing sweet November
We must meet on sacred ground

I know it's not the solstice
Cause we haven't brought the boughs
And I can still smell leaves a'burning
And hear the lowing of the cows