The Light at October’s End by Meg Smith


In memory of Darryl Mullen

I know you are fading; a fall begets
a heart’s sleep, as if in lightning.
For my lanterns, I carve many faces —
in turnips, apples, pumpkins,
for a table spread with candles
and prayer cards. I hold my rosary
in a moon of pearls within my hand.
A curtain, I will draw back for you,
and your dragon-steed, a trail of fire,
your herald in the night.
We will draw together, in the darkness,
and never fall away even in
November’s thin, leafless morning.


A Midnight Walk
By Meg Smith

When the laughter fades,
with purple and green lights,
and shuffle of child’s cloaks and capes,
I step out, the front lights off.
Leaves crawl,
claws across the sidewalk.
What to seek in this time against
laughter, adults like willows thrashing
at party windows, curtains playing
at ghosts? With arms upraised, I will
plead to the shadows of naked trees,
black against black, in a crown of stars.
We will fly together, to that
dark, dark spiral where the
true October night never ends.


Meg Smith is a writer, journalist, dancer and events producer living in Lowell, Mass. In addition to previously appearing in Tales from the Moonlit Path, her poetry has appeared in The Cafe Review, The Horror Zine, The Lowell Review, and many more. She is author of five poetry books and a short fiction collection, The Plague Confessor. She welcomes visits at

Published 10/27/22