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

From: Autumn Poetry: A Collection for the Season

Available on Amazon

Photo: Pixabay