In the woods there
Are ghosts.
Don't be frightened.
They only come
Out at night.
Let's watch them
Dance on the
Moonlit lake.
Not even cypress trees
Grow in the
Unmoving, black water.
They dance. And because
They are as cold as
Death on the day
Heated water,
Mist forms around them
Until the ghosts
Blend into the gray swirls
And disappear as the
Sun accidentally chases
Them both away
Still dancing.
Where did they go?
Or are they still here,
Watching, Unseen,
Silent...Listen: is that
The ghosts whispering
Among the boughs?