Ghosts of Fairmont Ridge Trail

Just beyond the Eucalyptus trees lined up

Like chorus girls with skinny arms

Holding out their skirts

The bench beckons.

A name’s carved in the wood and a title--

“lover of dogs, dancing and sunsets.”

I enjoy the company of ghosts

And talk to this one lightly: 

Did you look at the hills to the south

And think of pyramids?

Did the sky seem painted with a sponge?

The fog veils the trees, a shroud deep

with ghosts on an evening stroll.

The lover of dogs, dancing and sunsets

drifts in that mist beside me--I feel

A change in gravity.

To every question, she answers, yes---

Yes everything stays a mystery

even after death, 
yes, I'd rather feel the breeze
than be it---and always her voice
sounds much like my own.