Ghosts From Whistling Space

Monday Morning Musings:

From whistling space

dust swirls and burns



lighting the universe

reaching shores,

then, like tides

sweeping back to the sea

tumbling again and again

in a wave

a new formation

a new song

a new life born

an old life lived




We go to the movies

a ghost in a white sheet

views his life

rooted to a place, a home,

a place always there and not

time moves differently for him

and for us, in watching him watching

beautiful, sad, but perhaps hopeful, too

(open to interpretation)

there is much for us to discuss

over coffee, of course,


and as we walk through a city

filled with old and new


A Path to the Past in Summer Bloom


observing how the seasons alters its look

summer flowers making everything bright and beautiful


the city changes over time

here was once a creek

that grew filthy with waste

a sewer


covered now by grass and trees

bucolic space in urban expanse

expansive thoughts arose here, too

made a nation


Maybe someone should write a musical about him. 

bodies buried now

yet ghosts still walk among us

paths that bend in time




we hear their voices whistling in the wind

in the space around us

feel their ideas


ebb and flow

the things they left behind


We take my mom on an outing

away from city ghosts

though they linger in memory,

she talks of her parents

her mother sewed piecework for a time

during the Great Depression

her father was upset that his wife went to work

But she worked in their store, didn’t she?

Yes, but that was different, she says and laughs

her brother, my baby brother, I miss him, she says

he was an active child

always falling out of things—the carriage, his crib–

he fell out of my mom’s bed once

she was supposed to be watching him

he bumped his head on the radiator,

she never told her mom

but, I guess it didn’t hurt him

he lived a good life,

though it ended before my mom’s

and now we share the memory of him,

a ghost living in our hearts


We sit drinking wine, overlooking the vineyard

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IMG_8713 2

it’s a beautiful day

we watch families

children playing with a beach ball on the grass

hawks flying overhead

we sit discussing the past and the future

our conversation ebbs and flows

thoughts linger, pause—

and float up into space


We eat Pakistani food at my daughter and son-in-law’s house

their dog chases creatures, real and imaginary

birds whistle and sing,

echoing us,

or do we echo them?

We sit with greenery all around us

then eat cupcakes that look like flowers

IMG_6450 2

My daughter’s beautiful and delicious creation.


I wonder about the people who used to live in this house

and what was it before them–

Field? Farm?

And before that?

Did native Americans walk here

in migrations that followed the seasons

circling round, year after year

ghosts walking among us

watching us

rooted to this spot

waiting for something or someone

waiting for a sign,

a message,

a whistle perhaps

a thought that has floated up

swept up in time

and brought back down again

lighting the universe


IMG_6448 2


We saw the movie A Ghost Story.  Trailer here.   I think it’s a movie that people will either love or hate. It’s a definite Merril movie, but my husband loved it, too.


We drank coffee at Customs Coffee House at 2nd and Chestnut, Philadelphia,

went to Sharrott Winery  

And ate Pakistani food from Mera Khana Restaurant   I could eat those vegetable samosas every day!








36 thoughts on “Ghosts From Whistling Space

  1. I enjoyed this, Merril.
    I’ve been thinking about legacy, lately, wondering how much, or how little, it really means. I guess it comes down to the values of those who survive.

  2. I had to laugh at the “no hipsters” sign…my daughter might have made that!
    I always love how you bring the generations together, the memories filtering the present with the past.
    And those cupcakes! (K)

    • Thank you, Kerfe. That coffee place has other handwritten signs inside, too, but the no hipsters made me laugh. There was a lot going on that day, too–lots of tourists and also a small protest across the street (for health care).
      My younger daughter decided recently to teach herself how to do cake decorating. I’m impressed. 🙂

  3. Now who is that hottie with the pink phone showing shock or surprise? And all that sparkly food and wine. You do your mother proud – and daughters too.

    Internet connection spotty here in Canada. I must close before I whine.

  4. Great family photos — the one with you, your daughter, and mom is an amazing and sweet capture. Ah, such fun and silliness between you and your husband. I’m not sure I’ll enjoy that ghost movie, though — friends have said it’s very, very slow. You both loved it, though, huh?

  5. What a beautiful poem, Merrild. I felt as though I’s entered a peaceful and timeless floating dream where each moment of time was a precious glimpse of life. Poignant and elegantly done. 🙂

    • Thank you! My daughter decided to teach herself how to do cake decorating a few weeks ago. I actually made cookies–my mandelbrot–but I’ve included photos of them before. It was a fun day. Thank you for stopping by!

  6. I really like your family stories. 💞
    It is funny that your mom didn’t report baby brother’s head accident, falling out of her bed. Babies are rather accident prone, though! Your photo of your mother, daughter and you, as well as time spent outdoors with summer activities all around just brought the happiest feeling over me. 😁
    I see my own Mom over Labor Day weekend. It’s been awhile since my weeklong adventure of Independence Day! Time sure has been flying by. . .

  7. Pingback: Under the Druid Moon: Yeats Challenge, Day Eleven | Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

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