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    The owls are hooting,
    the leaves are rustling,
    the moon is shimmering,
    like a golden candle,
    the days are shortened,
    the green masked witches don't fly,
    the bed-sheet ghosts don't hover,
    the toilet paper mummy's don't smell,
    the felt-fabric ghouls don't feast,
    the stores are packed,
    until 6-o'clock,
    but then at 9:00, filled again,
    the stores are quiet, and still,
    the parents are at home,
    the children are not,
    the parents are tired,
    the children are not,
    you pull shut the curtains,
    blow out the pumpkins,
    put the little monsters to bed,
    and take a deep breath,
    the air of crisp autumn leaves are brushing the air,
    blowing in through the open door,
    and you know,
    It's halloween.