It’s Halloween, and though the spooky season is not so spooky here in the Southern Hemisphere, I do have a little poem for you–some thoughts I had on old (possibly haunted?) vs new houses back in the depths of winter.

The walls are square,
Floor level.
When you shut the window
There is no draft.

There are no spiders in the bath,
No moths flap flap flapping
Around the kitchen light.

No rats slide greasily
Through the walls.
The attic is not insulated
With bird nests and skeletons.

When it rains outdoors
It doesn’t rain inside.

In this house, there are no ghosts
Rattling the cupboards,
Moaning down the chimney,
Pacing creaky floorboards at 3 AM.

Lonely, I throw the doors and windows open.