Twilight’s a time for shadow folk,
A spook image that can poke,
Attuned with a feeling eerily,
I might call it a conspiracy.
A bit humorous, but no joke.
Back and forth the issues tumble,
Mad rumors float ‘mid the rumble,
No need to add to paranoia,
Already as big as a sequoia.
Let tensions drop to a mumble.
Rumors fly as does fake news,
I’ll be select in what I choose,
Alert, indeed, to the real Spirit,
With a truth I might inherit.
A friendly spirit with whom I schmooze.
Of course, this is barely real,
But that’s part of its appeal,
The Spirit has a subtle boast,
Appropriate for the role of host.
Attending to programs with an ethereal seal.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.