The wind holds its breath for the crickets song:
Slow, steady chirping for cold days ahead.
Barren branches twist around each other;
Their shadows snake towards shuttered windows.
A sheet of clouds shrouds the moon
Drowning it in ink,
Leaving only the amber street lamps for light
So that Halloween can begin.
Wavering spirits flit from lamp to lamp,
Following the stepping stones to new neighborhoods,
Searching for ancient purpose
Before hitting a dead end.
Dejected, they disappearSearching for ancient purpose
Ready to repeat their doomed quest next year.
**
Aarohi enjoys reading, art, and writing poetry and prose. Fall is her favorite season, with the crisp weather, vibrant colors, and rain, and she believes that the atmosphere of Halloween is particularly fun to write about.