Lynn Schiffhorst
ALL HALLOWS EVENING
When rain is falling in chilly wet sheets
And no one’s around in the town,
I pedal my bike to the churchyard and yell,
“All of you – out of the ground!”
As the bones in the clay start to whistle and hum,
They twitch and they stretch and they spring
From the flat horizontal in which they were laid
To a sitting and strutting and leaping parade.
As dancers they’re stiff, and they trample my toes,
But their smiles have a useful white glow
That light up like lanterns the dark sodden grave
Where they drop me as hopelessly slow.
How they caper and curtsey and blow the man down,
Dashing and flashing around and around,
Till I have to bellow, “Enough! Underground!”
They go, but they go with a sneer and a frown!
