The Artist’s Ghost
“haiku house”
waits at woods edge
my trickster mind
enters the silence
empty in the rain dark
I feel her ghost
heart…beats
until I whisper
“hello the house”
and she’s gone
her portrait on the wall
wearing the dead-
hummingbird necklace
hollow as her eyes
first thing I see
not expecting the ghost but
she’s left me alone
voice of the creek sounding
like rain or a river
singing to shooting stars
Plumb Branch, North Carolina
2 thoughts on "The Artist’s Ghost"
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Very spooky poem, in a good way. Thanks, Carole.
The poem reminds me of the way the traveler Basho would leave haiku at stops on his journey into the interior