Those Cloven Hooves

The graveyard is brighter than usual this night With snow tinted blue in the full moon’s light He climbs from his grave for his Halloween walk But cloven hoof-prints in the snow make him baulk For right here and now on this All Hallows’ eve Though October snow he can see and believe He lingers aghast on that snow covered floor Where two more hoof-prints make a tally of four He puts down his head and it’s face is irate As it studies the hoof-prints in snow by the gate This night he must wander the graveyard alone So four cloven hoof-prints he shall not condone Two devils or maybe two mischievous imps Cavorting and prancing like demonic chimps But where are those two tiny demons residing A holly bush moves, is that where they’re hiding? Retrieving his head which he holds by its hair He asks in a guttural voice, “Who be there?” First comes a grunt then the mist of a breath But no human breathes when he be in death The juice of red berries or blood of the dead Whatever it be it be splattered and red He glares at those dark crimson stains in the snow and says, “If you’ve eaten your fill you must go.” Out from the holly a dark shadow moves The corpse makes a count of the four cloven hooves He says, “I’m the one who must make this night gory So, Rudolph, you’re early, get out of my story.”