The Witching Hour Poem by LeeAnn Azzopardi
The Witching Hour
The howling wind at the witching hour
Casting the dead leaves
Like the ghosts swirling through
These darkened clouds
Covering the full harvest moon
As the night moves
The tom cats roar their pain
Slowly the spirits' passage goes
Through the graveyard
Into the streets looking for
A soul to take
But the edge of night arrives
And they return empty-handed
To another day being born
This is an absolute gem...... thanks for sharing.... LeeAnn....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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3/13/2026 11:11:36 AM # 1.0.0
The spirit of Halloween, so perfectly captured. We can see it, feel, participate in it! Don' care for Halloween but I sure loved your poem. A true treat!