First a mouse came to my door,
then a duck,
next a dog demanding treats,
followed by an elephant.
A parade of animals
all ringing the bell
in the late fall sunshine.
Almost done with saving time,
I was not done with saving chocolate.
I said to the dog, “You can’t have chocolate.
It will kill you.”
He protested that he was a strong dog,
a wise dog, could even take
chocolate through an IV, if need be,
and need there was.
He muzzle-nuzzled me for a Nestle.
Halloween, a time of year, a time of mind,
when serotonin levels swell
at just the thought of candy.
Sugar keeps those little legs pumping,
down streets, up steps, over sidewalk cracks.
Lights on porches draw them in like moths.
Some are reluctant to say the magic words.
Some are brash and grab their own choice
from the bowels of the bowl.
They turn, after three small words,
stumble down to mothers,
fall into waiting strollers
pushed by fathers, who extract their toll
with a snicker, to the next yard.
© by Marilyn Zelke-Windau.
Used with the author’s permission.