A second poem written for Hallowe’en, this one according to a story devised by my mother (so, somewhat less full of monsters and people getting eaten).
Written for All Hallows’ Eve, though not, in the end, used for its intended purpose (horrifying teenagers).
Once there was a village in the woods, and every night
at sunset they would gather and would make a fire burn bright –
for warmth and roasting sausages, and dancing all around,
but also necessary to protect their little patch of ground;
for hidden in the dark of night were monsters in the woods
in whom was little thought of deeds benevolent or good.