Type Dancing

       Pumpkin Prize
       By David Allen

I’m a bumpkin for pumpkins
pies, bread, and pudding,
and spice in my coffee
on cool Autumn morns.

As I drive around town
I see them on stoops, 
stairs, and porches;
gutted and carved
in Halloween screams.

I wonder if any of the gourd artists   
know the legend of Jack O’Lantern,
the Irish drunkard and fast-talking conman
who scammed Satan during a drinking game
into freeing him from Hades.

The centuries-old myth
claims Jack didn’t realize
the Pearly Gates were also
locked for him and, forlorn,
he begged Satan to take him back.

Satan refused. 
But, admiring Jack’s evil,
presented him an ember
to place inside a hollowed-out pumpkin.

A pumpkin prize 
to light Jack’s endless trek
through the netherworld.