Chill

Cornstalk scarecrows

Guard pumpkin patches

We get scared at the sound

Of screeching door latches

That seemingly move

By themselves on the barn

Where ghosts made from sheets

Hang from frayed yarn

They spin in the wind

Disturbing the night

Our eyes grow large

At the spooky sight

We check what we’re seeing

Blinking twice

And chase the chill away

Sipping pumpkin spice

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