The Monster Weekly

Every September
The wooded-ones gathered
To listen to old Wilhelmina, the Wise

For she had the greatest,
The grandest, most glorious,
Most sacred story to share.

The simple narration
Was always the same,
Passed down from one wooded-one to the next.

The details stayed true,
Except when they changed
Ever so, ever so slightly.

Her words would ring out
In magnificent splendor
To remind them of where they had been,

To signal the start
Of a year of rebirth,
And remind them of where they might go.

The tale would then close;
The leaves would descend
From the elders who stood proud and tall–

And though they all knew
That winter was near,
Her words whispered softly to them…

Summer then fall, winter then spring
Summer then fall, winter then spring
Summer then fall, winter then spring
Summer then fall, winter then spring