Ice crashing then melting
dripping then freezing
creating the cricks and cracks
jagged and smooth
of the rocks
upon which I stand.
Moss and ferns
grasses and dandelions
here and there
fighting for the water
that is hiding deep beneath the rocks.
The smoke billows in from the burning trees afar
creating a haze that surrounds the crooked haunted house
that is no longer crooked
and possibly haunt-free.
As they straightened the walls,
the ghosts had no more crooks or crannies to hide.
* Some thoughts as I sat listening, observing and reflecting on top of Pilot’s Monument in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada.*