Is It

Is it the leaves under your feet ... The rusted gate amid the fence ... Scratching, scraping across the street Or something one would call nonsense The rusted gate amid the fence ... An elm tree clawing at a shutter ... Or something one would call nonsense A word one would not dare utter An elm tree clawing at a shutter The wind whispering in the dark, A word one would not dare utter ... Could be something mundane and stark The wind whispering in the dark ... In the distance a shrieking howl ... Could be something mundane and stark Could be another something foul In the distance a shrieking howl ... Scratching, scraping across the street Could be another something foul ... Is it the leaves under your feet?