Autumn

GHOST
in the
GRAVEYARD

It's Friday night
Of the fourth week of school,
A bit of a nip
Beginning to cool.

After supper,
In the night,
It's "Ghost in the graveyard",
Children take flight!

They run round corners
Of neighbors' homes,
Hide behind cars
With duct-taped chromes.

Quiet, brown,
Crackling leaves, breeze,
They all crouch down
Then an allergy sneeze.

From concrete driveways
Up jumps the dead,
To the back-porch steps
The living have fled

Where, to the top,
Mount steps to be free
Like the seven sacraments
Are steps up to Thee!