Trick Or Treat (Poetry)

The room is warm and settled
in its gold electric light
as the day collects its rags of dusk outside
I feel the spirits pressing
making ready for the night
from the quiet shadows stealthily they glide

I almost hear their whispers
sighs subliminal — too low
for the usual range of hearing to detect
a vague interpretation
of a spooky situation
and I shiver as hair prickles on my neck

It’s the evening of Allhallows
and my ear is primed to catch
footfalls of whatever visitor may come
to tap upon my windows
or try rattling the latch
be they living or a less-than-vital one

A host of creaks and rustles
wild imagination claims
at least the supernatural’s lurking near
‘Trick or Treat’ — the sweet bowl’s ready
plus the Good Book sits rock-steady
either way — no wicked thing shall enter here!