Vintage Colorado Poetry Poem of the Week October 31, 2005
	Chaffee County's Marvin Hass returns for his third visit to Vintage Colorado Poetry. This time it's Halloween trick-or-treat when Ol' Buck throws his left front shoe.
		Cowboy's Halloween My horse had thrown an off front shoe as we lost the last day light. The steady rain had turned to snow. We needed shelter for the night. Soon shown the glow from a miner's shack We came upon it through an aspen grove. I hello-ed the house as I tied Ol' Buck then gave another loud hello. I knocked once and the door swung wide I stepped in with uneasy care. The door blew shut like a beaver trap and a moan came from off somewhere. Cowboy coffee was a steaming hot. The cook range was burning bright. The harvest table was set for two with a coal-oil lamp for light. I poured a cup and pulled up a chair. I must of dozed as the stove gave heat when I awoke with a yell and a jump. A bloody head lay at my feet. I did a dance & found the door and pulled it open wide, on the porch was the headless body just standing right outside. I recoiled, then spun to the right guess my fear just saved my life. A fearsome woman swung an axe then ear-marked me with her knife. The axe took off my left boot tip and my big toe stayed right there. I dived for the outside fast and low, met the headless miner in mid air. I hit the ground and ran for Buck My senses were a spinning blur. The old witch screamed as we rode by So I gave her face my spur. We limped on in to Tincup, as the sun inched above the peak. Tied up outside the blacksmith shop, I was feeling cold and wet and weak.
							The smithy was heating up the forge 'til the coals got a real nice glow. I asked him where to get a meal and a sawbones for my toe. I questioned him when I settled up about that shack on Middle Creek. His face turned white, as he rolled his eyes, then he cleared his throat to speak. "You must mean the Perkins' place, now there's a terrible tale. The Missus lopped off old Clyde's head, then we hung her by the Tincup jail." "It seems to happen on Halloween when steady rain turns into snow. She chops him up again, some say, that place is haunted, don't you know." Now my grand kids want the story, on every rainy Halloween. They scream and holler and hug me tight When I'd tell them what I'd seen. Call it vision, dream or fantasy When October rain turns into snow, I think about the Perkins' Place, "It's haunted ... don't you know."                        ---Marvin Hass Copyright (c) 2005, Marvin Hass. Used with the author's permission.
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