Screen door closes with a bang!
It always does that, she laughs
Honey Suckle… so sweet
Drifts by on a warm summer breeze
Smell that?
I can taste it! He says
Empty porch swing
Moving in a rhythmic dance
To the song of whip-‐poor-‐will and chickadee
Echoes of children’s laughter
By the waters edge
Somewhere in the hazel wood
The silent black bones
Of winters hearth fires
Long since forgotten
I stand here now, in the quiet mist
By this river of memory and belonging
Listening for ghosts…
by ~Kedar S. Brown, Sept. 3, 2015
Inspired by a hike in the North West Highlands of Scotland