Ghosts in an Autumn Field

Tread lightly through charcoal forests in winter

there are ghosts among dried and brittle vines

there are captured moments of children

lost wonder among gray and dying grasses

there are voices in meadows

whispers innocent and fleeting, all passing

We saved turtles on this path

we caught snakes 

all kinds of road kill

dark sillouettes of owls

in the early mornings on the way to school

it reminded me of New Jersey

deep forests and yellow fields

where teens would drive their trucks

in the mud

that dirt road

where my black car

was always pale

dust

now replaced

with a black asphalt

and metal fences

I can still hear you 

a child barely eight

we laughed about simple things

on that dirt road

far away from everything

tread lightly through memories

charcoal forests

burn in autumn fields

voices of youth in meadows

quiet

ghosts among dry and brittle vines...