Perched up high, upon a branch

In the forest, dark and scary

The owl waits for his next prey

Though his mistress, quite contrary

She sits inside, in black of night

By the window, where she eyes

Creatures scurrying about the grass

And much to her surprise

One comes closer, just enough

So the door, she opens wide

Watches as it makes its way

Unsuspecting, now inside

The cauldron boils and bubbles

As the witch begins to chortle

“Trick or treat, my tasty one

It’s time for my nightly mortal”

 

©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0