Late evening walk down Black Cat Lane,
I hear sounds I can’t explain.

Hoots that might be from an owl…
Are those wolves that I hear howl?

Indian corn in colors bright,
Caught in the beam of my flashlight.

Was that creaking from a gate?
Who else could be out this late?

Bony branches on that tree,
Stretching fingers out at me.

Eerie pumpkins flash toothy grins,
Candles glowing from within.

Footsteps coming from behind;
I hope they’re the human kind.

Cornstalks rustle in the breeze.
What’s that knocking? Just my knees!