Mesmerized by autumn’s colors,
jack-o-lantern creations
children donning costumes
door-to-door gathering of treats.
Humans blithely celebrate Halloween.

Oblivious are they, as the night progresses.
Asleep in beds, candy inventoried,
sweet tooths sated, witches’ hats discarded,
costumes strewn on floor.
Adults and childrent in exhausted sleep.

Clocks toll midnight, that preternatural hour.
The signal on this one night, the dead await each year.
Occurrences beyond the pale, are about to begin.
Bats circle screeching as darkest of clouds shroud the sky.
Streets, empty of humans, fill with the unspeakable.

Skeletons escape graves, clamber boldly through town.
Disembodied spirits float overhead.
Mummified creatures, once embodied souls,
perch on porches, curbs, moaning in groans.
All things once dead, make their appearance.

One hour each year. This is all they’re given.
To move. To feel the wind. To awaken and live again.
Regrets may arise
as some have wishes of what they could have done.
Others content, just breathe before they enter deep sleep again.

This is the twilight time, unbeknownst to many.
This time between All Hallows Eve and All Hallows Day.
The time of the living dead.

Poem inspired by our walk through Boston’s Beacon Hill late yesterday afternoon, looking at all the Halloween decorations folks put out. Image created on Bing Create. Happy Halloween everyone!