And here it is: the/your/our witching hour. When we think of witches and wonder at the wonder and wish for fishes and bones and bones and bones.
The witching hour: head butts and blood, witchy tits and bitty titty witches. Blond haired men and women, and a dragon on a wire night stand.
The witching hour: two talkative cats and a sad faced spouse.
The witching hour: tired enough to type.
And here it is: the/your/our wishes, riding away on an oil slick tide, memorial immemorial, and for the best.