In a garden haunted by ancestral spirits,
Surrounded by stone monuments to their gods
Celebrating the shadows of  native’s past lives,
We followed water sodden trails tromped before
By forms unseen, but evidence clearly revealed.

 

In the November mist meant to chill bones,
Under lichen-coated branches of dripping pinions,
Hidden in a haze from all but nature’s own creatures,
Cold fog camouflaging any awareness of past ghosts,
I felt not the icy past winds, only present warmth.

 

In the  magical rendezvous point of  former shamans
A haven where eyes formerly implored the skies
And only mystical answers of caution floated down.
Absolute knowledge manifested, acute awareness,
Love is unperishable in a heart that allows entry.

 

---cat