The hours grow closer to All Hallows' Eve
When spirits can dance and sing and shout Boo!
The colors are bold and dark
And the shapes are strange and amorphous.
The small creatures run rapidly to hide
Even carelessly slipping through white pools
They would otherwise avoid.
The Witch has her cups fulls of nectar for guests
Each cup more potent than the last
With all witches' favorite potions.
Mortals call this one the Jack-o-Lantern mushroom
With Gills being the harbinger of the poison
And an ability to light the way with bio-luminescence at the witching hour!
The Witch's bouquet
Sits scratchy and harsh and dying
In the center of the table
And then she lights the candles
And with her toothless grin
Invites us to join in her interesting repast.