Halloween at Mercer

All camellias are ladies, finally.
Gothic gowns and blonde...
And the clouds, the oncoming Halloween storms?
Horses and riders and the dust
Kicked up from the waters of yesterday.
She leans onto the branch
Soaked into roan, skirts billowing--
the wind won't pick up beneath the hooves above
It's the dream of stasis and fear
Pounding the humidity into a slick path
For the pursuing storms.
She flings an arm out, slams her heels
Beneath the branch and folds
Toward the path, leaning over me.
I hear the shout...
But not even a chill catches me.