Ghosts Among the Hills
Morning wears dark clouds like veils.
They churn among themselves and drift to the west.
They drift as spirits above wooded hills surrounding me.
A bare field waits to be planted.
A hole in the sky glows with opaque light.
Standing alone, I wonder where it will take me.
Standing alone, I ponder about those at home and those who left.
Silence leaves me with echoes of my thoughts and reverberations
of heartbeat.
Dauntless hawks making circles ride air currents, going higher and
descending.
This morning soliloquy stirs beginnings of a poem.
Shadows of a well-lived life linger.
A well-lived life recalls others.
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