Faces slipping from the leaves

[sundays50]

Faces slipping from the leaves /or An old lady knitting

in every howling furnace
past the howling fire
are bones not yet ashes
that crack like webs unweaving
tracing paths
that thread unwound

a bird flies too close to midnight
a creak sounds too close to time
await the only passing
bedded at the spot

turn and see the Darkness charging
shadows are uncast

[PrinceMyshkin]

There's a wonderful quality of something surreal and inexplicable about this! Thank you.