Flickering.

Wyeth, Bonfire, 1997

The flickering light from the hollow eyes,

That are carved in the pumpkins' shell,

Casts an eerie glow through the pumpkin patch

And lends to the trance-like spell,

Of the watcher who glimpses the dark, lithe shape,

That is crowned by the golden hair,

Of the mistress of all October imps,

Half clothed, but yet half bare,

For the slightest sign of a signal sent,

To determine his nightly fare,

And his breath burns, and his heart yearns,

And his fate accepts the dare.

James Walter Orr