When the moon is school-bus yellow,

sleepy children say their prayers,

waiting for October’s spirits

to arise from haunted lairs.

House cats dream of brooms and witches,

bare their claws and scratch the night.

Dead leaves skitter down dark alleys,

tiny ghouls in endless flight.

Old dogs hang around back porches,

shake and shiver, full of woe,

seeking solace from their masters,

every howl portending snow.

North wind whoops it up, carousing,

states a round of future goals,

murmurs at the eaves, conniving

mischief on unwary souls.

Hazy stars wink out their candles

while the silent hoot owl stares.

 When the moon is school-bus yellow,

 sleepy children say their prayers.

Published on November 1st, 2022