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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