Cursed Autumn
written by: Meghan Schmitt
@realmschmitt
The raven perches in the gnarled oak tree,
and crows skulk in daylight, acting so sly,
and the howls of wind, they call out to me.
“Come, dear wicked one, let your spirit fly!”
Crackled leaves, burnt leaves, are spun at my feet.
The air stabs me with ice in its dagger,
as I meander down this cold, wet street.
Lungs plagued with malaise, my pace is a stagger.
The fog rises thick on the fen so near,
and echoes chase themselves through mapled limbs,
reminding me that ghosts are haunting here,
and where there are dark phantoms, there lie Grimms.
When the skel’ton branches arrive, they say,
that the Devil’s children are free today,
that werewolves and ghouls are coming to play,
and evil is approaching, come what may.
In the witching hour, when lantern lights glow,
to all the creatures that reapers did sow,
the Shadow whispers, “Fly, flee, off you go!”
- Cursed Autumn - November 10, 2024
