This is such a perilous year for chrysanthemums, said Princess Haiku.
First, record breaking heat to confuse the darlings as to the season, and now last night's autumnal storm. Sheets of rain pelted against my glass windows and winds howled soon after midnight. There was no other thing for it. I slipped outdoors in a long ghostly nightgown with the wind whipping my pale hair about like a wraith, to pull my planter boxes with their tall occupants indoors.
After pulling wet oak leaves from their branches, I listened to chrysanthemum murmurings as I fell back asleep. What lore, what language do these chrysanthemum know? Like deux fay or siblings speaking twin language their conversation was inaccessible to me. More about deux fay another time.
Later, a dream of diving into a pool of magenta water, becoming a tall gold spider chrysanthemum, transforming into luminous images of Ameratsu. What portents, magic and gifts will my chrysanthemums bring, as winter darkens my pathway and they bear the last light of the season?
And now it is the day of All Hallows and I must prepare my "book of shadows;" an altered book of course. Having said this Princess Haiku disappeared as she often does.
Suddenly....
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