ghosts among the living

the woods full of doves
reverberates with mechanical
bassoons
whose hearts no longer think
summer is a long way off
this last week of spring
all at once
the last calls to mate
rise in a chorus
I had never heard anything
like it before
except the call and response
of crickets in high grass
at sunset in a field
where nomads picked herbs
long ago
before us and
burnt fires and held ceremonies
ghosts among the living
together winding down into darkness
and silence
filled by bats
snakes and dreams
*

ghosts among the living

Anthony DiMichele

Friday Harbor, United States

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