Samhain (cyhydedd fer sonnet)

Mortals bent at their tricks and treats
do not heed owl's forewarning shriek.
The witching hour is not for fools,
but ancestors, not ghost or ghoul.
The veil is frail this gusty night  
with starry sky, no moon in sight.
Bonfire is lit; pumpkin is carved.
Harvest feast set with welcome arms.
But be chary with warded care
to beware fae with puckish air
and keep your mummer’s guise in place
lest you end being victim chased.
Never to fear as dawn draws near,
this day occurs just once a year.