Bewitching poetry for the autumn season.
Excerpt. (c) Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
GHOSTS
a simple light upon gray shadows
and the resolution fades beyond the rising hills
we realize
they are within our waking souls
and while they roam among the sallow wood smoke trees
and filter in through doors
they take delight in tapping wooden floors
at night where shaken covers fall to floor
and dry cool air becomes pooled beneath the rim
of sun born days