If Such Wonders As You Can Be

On some nights it’s easier to read fairy tales than others

On this evening, for example:
Since October is all clad in orange, and ready for the storm—the annual end of days and the blinding gallop to the finish, so that we may begin again,
The words drop so easily from the page

Though we know well there are no fell beasts out the backdoor,
The woods still implore us to believe in dark realities
And there could be trolls and gnomes and creeping things out there, across the street
Beyond that last courageous spray of lamplight

Who knows what lives in the night?
And all good tales—story or fable or parable—come from some true place
So beware
And tonight let’s focus on the unique delight that comes
By shivering and by fright

Still, that's not where my heart is, my dear;
I am too full of other seeing
I am holding on to things truly beyond believing:

Being near you, to tuck you in for restful sleep,
Is to put us both to dream,
Is to believe that angels are real and near and sing
And long, like us, for distant things

Perhaps the moon is made of cheese
Perhaps Santa will bring good gifts this Christmas
Perhaps the cow will jump over the moon
Perhaps the ugly duckling will swoon in the most beautiful of songs

If such wonders as you can be
How can I discount anything?
But rather, find in each tale some blade or root
Amid the swiftly growing grass, which tells all truth

That, in the end,
The most miraculous does come to pass
And the last of our hopes will not harass us
Nor leave us empty handed
Just as goodness will come home to roost at last
And stay long past the witching hour
To hold us fast