"we heart it"

nullalux said

Ill winds mark its fearsome flight,
and autumn branches creak with fright.
The landscape turns to ashen crumbs,
when something wicked this way comes.

Crystal water turns to dark,
where e'er its presence leaves its mark,
and boiling currents pound like drums,
when something wicked this way comes.

A presence dark invades the fair,
and gives the horses ample scare,
for chaos reigns and panic numbs,
when something wicked this way comes.

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Then the bells rang loud and deep.
God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!