Lock the doors and turn out the lights;
the monsters roam the streets tonight.

Full moon suspended over earthen soil,
illuminating milky white phantoms—
their ghastly figures undulate and toil
through tendrils of fog thick as oil.

Languidly lurching around dark corners:
awakened cursed corpses of the dead
moaning in the night like ghastly mourners
following the Dark One’s orders.

Falling from the heavens on bent broomstick,
the witches laugh and wail on winds
commanded by malignant fingers cricked,
baneful creatures lost to their sick.

Fiends of all shapes and sizes gather, tall
heading to houses on your block,
porch light: a signal you are home this fall;
candy waits for their bite, so small.

Photo by robin mikalsen on Unsplash

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