with hands thrust deep
into pockets
the hours slip silently past
one into next without reckoning
on this cold
september morning.
lost in thought,
i stroll empty country roads
draped in morning fog.
and headed no place in particular
with a backpack
full of ghosts
sunlight peeks above the trees,
its soft-petaled glow
illuminating my path as i dream
of a home whimsical
and marvelous
somewhere up ahead.
