Crisp, clear, and cold the wind calls.
It tugs, taunts, torments, and tears
At capes and cloaks. At hats and hands.
Mauling masks and wrenching wigs.
Plucking, pulling, and pleading for its share.
It steals the shouts of “Trick or treat!”
As one by one they parade with sweets
The longer it watches without a pick –
The more it blows with its threatened trick.