By The Blood Moon
He looks up in wonder and howls to the blood moon
a low growl emanates deep within his parched throat
A chorus of stomach grumbles since a wasted afternoon
Aroused in the scented evening meal of roasted goat
He continues to search as reddened eyes begin to blur
Desperation steals his faltering will to slowly carry on
Guided by the harvest moon as night creatures begin to stir
His frantic search for what he needs begins to wan
Frozen by the sudden calling of her voice across the farmer's field
She will incapacitate him- of this certainty he does know
His body quakes as his tired haunches begin to yield
Hairs stand like spikes at the mocking silhouetted scarecrow
A mist begins to crawl like snakes through long grasses
"Why are you slinking on your hands and knees?" she yells
"Cause I lost my gol darn brand new prescription glasses!"
Behold Autumnal turning with dark deeds and witchy spells
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