Thirty-First

A maniacal canine howl vibrates across the sky.
On the porch I sit acquainted with loneliness.
Even the trick-or-treaters slumber now;
The evening’s bright orb keeps watch.

As I shift my feet, a something crackles.
Impulsively, my fingers reach for it.
Children these days! No respect.
Am I a conscientious citizen?
The wind snatches the candy wrapper away.

Reaching for the runaway wrapper,
I wreak havoc, clumsily toppling the stepstool.
What a mess. Why do I bother?
Almost no one comes anyway.
Am I a good neighbor?
With the last Snickers returned to its place,
My candy bowl is full. I wish it was not.

Glancing over at my homemade decoration
My thoughts drift to old Scrooge’s encounter.
Imagine such a confrontation!
Am I a generous steward?
The ghost’s Sharpie mouth makes no reply.

Strangely, a glimmer of encouragement
Reflects off my store-bought decoration.
I know Someone who overcame the grave!
The inflatable tombstone sways in the evening breeze.