Tonight when the moon is soaring high,
And the broomstick set invades the sky,
I’m expecting, as the wee ghosts moan,
The only witch I’ve ever known.
She will be small, but fierce and hissing,
Complete with broom, and front teeth missing
(The latter quite appropriate
For witches who are under eight).
Though I suspect her bored black cat
Is local, I’ll not mention that.
Tonight I’ll be convinced that soon
They’ll rise and sweep across the moon.
October 29, 1955, The Saturday Evening Post