The Season of the Witch

Most of the country is hushed out there

As the Moon climbs over the hill,

The creatures out in the wild beware

And the air is breathless, still,

The deer is stood at the edge of the wood

Afraid to go in too soon,

With the animals skittish, out in the yard

A hare stares up at the Moon.

There’s something amiss in the air tonight

Both furtive and dark, unclean,

Shadows are lurking by old stone walls

In wait for a sign to be seen,

The men all sit in a vacant trance

As the women go out by the ditch,

Wearing their smoke-black cloaks in the dance

For the Season of the Witch.

 

Then like the flutter of vampire bats

The witches take to their brooms,

Hang on to their tall black pointed hats

And fly low over the tombs,

They head in a swarm up Gallows Hill

Fulfilling some ancient rite,

While watchful eyes at the window-sill

Will get little sleep this night.

 

For Alison, Lindy, Carmen and Deb

Are watching their mothers leave,

Tucked into bed as their mothers’ fled

The girls creep out to deceive,

Pulling the curtains aside they see

The flight go over the hill,

And hear the cackling sounds of glee,

Then the air is cold and still.

 

Then Lindy calls to the other three

Through the window out to the farm:

‘Let’s climb up there, where we all can see

What they’re doing from high in the barn!’

So they dress themselves in their winter cloaks

And they put on their witches hats

That the mothers had made for Halloween,

Had decorated with bats.

 

They climbed up over the stacked up hay

To the roof of the timbered barn,

And they peered from the moonlit bullock dray

To the trees by the hilltop farm,

But the witches danced in a grove of trees

Quite hidden from anyone’s sight,

‘Let’s take our brooms,’ said Alison Keys

‘And fly while the Moon is bright!’

 

‘Let’s fly while the Moon is bright,’ she said,

So they stood at the edge of the hay,

Looked down to the old paved cattle yard

And the tractor, over the way.

‘We saw them fly, we can do it too,

We’re witches tonight, we’ve seen!

Tonight is the magical mystery night

For witches - it’s Halloween!’

 

They mounted their broomsticks, held their breath

Then leapt each one with a scream,

They dropped like stones to the cattle yard

On the night of Halloween,

They were found impaled on the thresher blades

That was parked beside the ditch,

And the screams could be heard a mile away

In the Season of the Witch!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Pratik]

That was such quite a twist!! I have always loved your writing.. because its like reading a story. It reminds me of my childhood when i would retire to the bed at 9.. on a stormy night with a book tucked in my arms and those were the times i would believe everything in that book was true: witches, fairies, monsters, talking animals.. Your poems for me act like a time machine: they come with an ancient old-world charm. It's like the fragrance of yellow, moth-eaten pages of a book that always make you feel good but in a weird way.... This one was no different.. It builds the plot stanza by stanza and then at the end BANG! You come up with something when the readers are least expecting it.... Thank you sir for the read! It was quite enjoyable...

[Mic]

Never saw this one coming. Was thrown a complete 180 with those last few lines. You had me humming along with the meter, entranced in the rhyme... then wham! Ran over my puppy. Ha! Happy Halloween...

Excellent write Mr. Paget!

[Emerald Seas]

Horror filled indeed! Love the story and flow.
Do you ever read your work aloud, for Spoken Word performances? So many of them would be a delight to hear. I can envision this one for Halloween before the kids head out to trick-or-treat, all sitting about a fire pit, enthralled, and scared out of their wits before wandering off on their own into the dark streets.

[MOON]

More horror great tale.

[Rob Santana]

Well written,great detail

[jkhatz]

Wonderful imagery. A delightfully macabre tale.