of a deserted, New England stone home
left me uneasy, intruding on spirits.
Closed doors—Should I open them?
What if one door led to a deep tunnel
full of ghosts or crazy people?
No, I would not open them.
I opened a door to one side of the house;
aged ivy plants covered a high wall.
The walkway needed maintaining.
For a moment, I thought it was safe.
In the back yard, stone sculptures and potted plants
cracked and stained by crusty bird droppings
surrounded by weeds, trees, and crevices.
I felt spirits lurking at me from there.
(from an old reoccurring dream)