Ghosts
A poem and photograph from my latest book, Ireland, Place out of Time (2017). Order your copy from Weeping Willow Books.
Ghosts
In the moss woods
moisture drips upon ancient rocks
my thoughts oblique fire
the pyre beckons
sadness creeps toward my words
your words, our intentions grow
purple with winged birds lifting
red blue orange grief holds us
too close to home, too close to
the spirit that lifts
with your eyes