it’s that time again; the trees have rained leaves all week so that their branches have turned to black, twisted fingers.
the wind whistles through them, periodically pausing to moan or shriek.
tree limbs creak and groan, sometimes dropping chunks of rotting extremities . . . sometimes with rather exacting aim—all i’m saying is, watch where you run at dusk.
we have the kind of neighbors that laugh themselves silly to see you scared or startled, even a little bit.
but don’t you get too comfortable and laugh back—they don’t like that much.
for them, reciprocal neighborhood fun is for the birds.
yeah, not so smiley when the shoe is on the other foot.
ask us how we know . . .
HAPPY HALLOWEEN from our neighborhood to yours!