Jill Stockinger
Beware!
A riddling,
rattling
streaming of witches
go streaking across the sky.
With wiggles
and wriggles,
a waggle of batwings
silently flap and rise.
Dashing, flashing
brightly through the mist,
the moon rolls on in the bitter bite
of the cold and windy night.
Moaning, groaning,
dark bendy trees shake dry leaves;
branches stretch their gnarled fingers,
pointing and clutching in the moonlight.
Laughing, shrieking,
colorful costumed children
happily shout, “Trick or treat!”
as they sprint from house to house.
Sliding, slipping,
a ghostly whisp is slinking
through the graveyard, watching
and waiting, quiet as a mouse.