The first chance

Of feeling today’s

Sun belongs to

The tallest of

Tall trees here

Just now their

Canopies are squinting

In early day

These tall trees

Stand head and

Shoulders above others

Like gangly taller-than-mates

Eighth graders in

Class photos the

Dawn sun moves

Across these trees

Like a slow

Yellow caterpillar across

The leaves of

It’s lunch eventually

Scorching everything with

The noon heat


What happens to

Ghosts that lose

Their moans groans

Their scariness do

They become wind

Do they turn

Into a breeze

Or do they


Making no sound

I wonder then

What you might

Be for one

Moment you were

Here and the

Next gone without

So much as

A whispered whimper

Leave me ghost

You shall not

Have me my

Soul belongs to

The living those

Who have hearts

That beat loudly

And bleed on

Sleeves when hurt

Be gone ghost

For good now