Because times were bad,
I think he came to comfort me
on an October day filled with light.
He had been gone so long
into that silent world
that his face was gray,
his hands wrinkled and cold.
He spoke softly, and his words
rose like smoke in the clear air.
He touched me on the shoulder,
while outside some young men
gathered leaves into piles,
loaded them into pickup trucks.
A few birds twittered in the trees,
the small pond glittered in the sun,
and together we felt the earth
as it stretched a little,
yawning like someone
who had been up late the night before.
Steve Klepetar is enjoying October in the Berkshires, hanging with ghosts.