Season of the Witch

It is the season of the witch,
and my pen feels a certain itch:

to capture vampire turning bats
and unfamiliar black cats
emerging from cold, dusty rooms
behind them, witches on their brooms
fly to a coven by the moon.

They'll dance their dance and sing their tune
while scarecrows come to life and wake,
the monsters creep out from the lake,
the jack-o-lanterns smile, no teeth
but something stirs way down beneath
as coffins open, gravestones twitch...

It is the season of the witch.

Author notes: image generated by author prompt to Gemini