At the end of May

At the end of May,

moon-breath clouds linger
as sparrows and robins awaken the sun.

Soon the furnace door will open
and the air will steam,

but now, light and shadow play tag,
and the little deer join the game.
A blue jay referees from a high tree branch

where tattered decorations for the war dead cling
like ghosts

on the river, and time tumbles in the waves
while the surface sparkles with memories.

I wrote this early this morning and shared it with @TopTweetTuesday. I can’t seem to get away from River Ghosts!

27 thoughts on “At the end of May

  1. Wow! Your River Ghosts are meant to be.
    I looked on Kobo for River Ghosts. It’s not there. However, there are more than a few books by Merril D. Smith. Is that you?
    (I’ve been boycotting Amazon for 6 ears now)

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