All Hallows’ Eve

It’s approaching Halloween,
and perception of creatures
is heightened.
They are eerie,
uncanny, cryptic in the colours
of plumage and huge black eyes.

Who are these enchanted sprites,
the lime-green of sphagnum moss?

In the breathlessness of twilight,
we wait impatiently for night
to fall,
its mutants arising
from primeval mud, swinging
from low branches,
landing
spaceships in fields,
worrying flocks and herds,
scaring the birds.

We hold our breath and listen
for a knock at the door,
invisible men leave
muddy footprints on the floor,
while the monsters
get high on sugar.