Waiting Till Moonrise

Linus, luv, budge over a bit,

I need some more room to await the arrival.

I’m tired of the other orange god-monster taking all the press,

I need promises I can believe in.

Good gifts for all the good children who believe?

Can good children believe in healthcare for all?

Living wages? Affordable food?

Clean water? Untouched natural spaces?

I believe, Linus, I sincerely believe.

I’m old enough to have seen it,

And young enough to know the future will see it.

I might not live long enough to see it,

Sitting here in the frost and leaves,

But I have hope for the future.

Here, take my coat. It’s cold out here,

And a security blanket only stretches so far in these times.

I brought an extra hat. Here, take it.

Gloves, too.

I heard you were kicked out of your home,

They suspected your religious beliefs

And somewhat feminine ways,

And came to the wrong conclusion.

I don’t care if your blue blanket should also have pink and white stripes.

It’s nobody’s business, except your own.

Consenting, adult, and maybe some discretion, you know?

You’ve been sleeping out here in my patch for awhile, yes?

I don’t think you’re just looking for sincerity.

Sincerity doesn’t put food in your belly,

Or a warm roof over your head.

Vines do make good cover, though,

For the ones that our “polite society” throws out.

The dreamers, the ones who look around

And say, “There are better ways. Kinder ways.”

You’ve been in the neighborhood for a long time,

Now that the people who meant you harm

Are dead, or have moved, or don’t recognize you.

But you have been polite, didn’t steal,

Even when it meant you starved for the night.

And you know my spouse is gone,

And I could never get the hang of cooking for less than two.

I have a room you can bunk in.

I don’t have much,

But you don’t either,

So let’s face the frost and cold and rustling leaves together.

Looking for a sincerity greater than ourselves.

Sure, I’ll stand watch with you. Well, sit watch,

These joints don’t work so well this time of year.

But, when we’ve kept our promise,

We’ll go inside at moonrise

And drink some spiced cider, I’ll feed you some soup,

And we’ll bar the door

Against hatred, and phobias, and zealots, and dictators.

The little ghosties and goblins

Don’t visit me no more,

I’m too far out in this little town

To justify the walk for a little bit of candy.

I make a mean apple pie, though, if you’re willing to try it.

Maybe, together,

We can take back the darkness

That the evil pumpkin brings,

And make a cozy haven

For two lost souls.

And maybe, when we can,

We’ll find another, and draw them into the circle.

After that,

Who knows,

Maybe another, and another.

But first,

Let’s admire the beauty of the most sincerest patch of pumpkins

For miles and miles around,

And wait for the coming

Of the Great Pumpkin.