I heard a monstrous banging on the door
Below the lonely winter’s blustering roar:
The icy wind rushed up, and caused a fright
Past midnight on a clear so windy night.
What is that racket? No one phoned me here.
Perhaps some passerby’s or neighbor’s fear
Has gotten to her too. Perhaps my bell
Has died again — an isolating hell!
Old lady that I am, I limped about.
I must do something now, without a doubt!
I peered through windows and the round full moon
Kissed snowy icy branches with a swoon;
So shaken, they all trembled; so did I.
The draft snaked in. The boughs squealed with a sigh.
I reached the door, still banging, and I cried
“Who’s there!?” And I was sorely terrified.
And yet since I saw none, I cracked the door
A small bit open, and peered out some more…
Then, with a rush, a shadow strange raced in,
A flight of fear and famine, fur and skin….
And so I met, upon a lonely night,
My new hobgoblin, after eerie clues –
The apparition who flew in with fright
Distinguished poet-purrfessor Langston Mughes.
Oh, what a night! I cannot take it back:
Like every feline he’s a sumptuous poem:
Short-pelted, like a panther, sleek and black…
He’s taken charge of all and deemed it home.
Written Aug 1, 2019 © Anissa Nedzel Gage, All rights reserved
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