Poetry: Pleasing Ghosts


Sounds, like blessed drops
falling as heavenly clouds
grace Earth and bless my ear.

Rhythm now a bit more than
gentle drops of above
playing ecosystem tunes
– distant thunder.

Doves silent in trees, other birds
sit quietly in Mother’s shower
(they’ll return),

The sounds of tires rolling wet
on water, splashing in puddles,
trailing droplet ghosts,
and pleasing me.


Look both ways in rain or sun.
Mind the gaps but enjoy spaces between drops.