Sunday Morning

Sunday morning, feeling great
Sunday morning, sleeping late
Sunshine's mellow, not too bright,
Slipping through the blinds just right
Read the paper, check email
Nothing grabs me by the tail
Nothing on my list today
And that's the way it's gonna stay
Sunday morning, sleeping late
Sunday morning, feeling great

Halloween

Our gap-toothed pumpkin face is carved and lit,
A witches' squadron rides our windowpane,
As vampires, devils, ghouls, in counterfeit,
Seek treats or trickery at our door again.
My children hold me tightly by the hand,
As I escort their Halloween debut;
They shrink from every boisterous beggars' band
Because they fear the trumpery is true.
So I explain and soothe and hold them close
And show them all is clever-made deceit:
Each Frankenstein, a playmate grandiose;
Each ghost, a neighbor child wound in a sheet.
But yet a sound, a touch, a shadow--hark!
I glance behind my shoulder in the dark.