The chill of a dark October wind
Blows a type of madness into the brain,
As Druids trek through the countryside
While ghosts and goblins
Dance with an autumn storm.
The summer is gasping its last breaths,
Unwilling to step aside for winter’s fury.
The high priest performs his father’s rituals.
Smoke from leaf fires mixes
With the aroma of a witch’s brew
Enticing one and all to taste,
If they be strong enough.