The wind blows a scratchy sound
shapeless jack –o- lantern lights
the small room as the wind waits
for midnight.
The limitations unbinding as the
doors open and close to the Negroes
quakers mumbled curses await a
crimson fire.
White hoods lurk in the night to burn
the cross dark hues of fright for no
freedom will be celebrated tonight.
___Yvonne Coleman-Burney