It was a cold and eerie Halloween—
A sallow moon half-hid by twisted trees;
The hearth’s orange glow cast shadows gaunt and lean
That writhed like corpses wakened by the breeze.
Outside, the wolves gave forth a starving moan,
The barn door groaned, torn loose from rusted latch;
Through window-panes, dark phantoms stalked alone,
As rats stirred deep in rafters’ worm-gnawed thatch.
A fortnight past, three witches burned at stake—
By torment wrung, they stared into my eyes;
Their shrieks still echo, haunting sleep and wake,
Stern whispered curses echoed in reprise.
Then hark! A hammering upon the door—
While wind borne cinders scattered on the floor.

© Loubert S Suddaby.  All Rights Reserved.