THE TALE OF THE GHASTLY TREE
My toast to Halloween

I planned a simple walk.
Just a breath of fresh air.

Now it's dark.
The night air cold.
"Admit it," I whisper.
"You're lost."

Obviously, a wrong turn taken.
Somewhere between here and there.

I press forward.
My leaden boots,
Kicking through the ashen earth.

Wearily, I crest a small hill.
Fearful of what I'll see,
Yet, knowing exactly what lies ahead.
After all, I've seen it over and over again
During my never-ending circular walk.

A few more steps.
The rerun begins.

For the umpteenth time this Halloween night.
I'm face to face.
With the ghastly tree.

So dead,
The dark trunk thrusting toward the cloudy sky.
Tangled limbs
Devoid of greenery.

Yet, so alive.
It wants me here.
Needs me here.

No more walking.
I'll take my stand.
Alone.
Utterly alone.