If it snowed on Halloween,
The trees would dress like ghosts.
Instead of treats they’d give us tricks
That we’d enjoy the most.
They’d drop their snowsheets on our heads
Or poke us with their bones
Or haunt us, when the wind was strong,
With ghostly gasps and groans.
We’d stand right next to them and laugh
And mock their spooky sound—
For all the time we’d know ghost trees
Are rooted to the ground.