Sacto and Solstice Ghosts

The air opens,

vaster.

Mysterious. Emptiness

cloaked in darkness.

It moves toward you, alone

through river froth.

It is loosed.

It

moves past you, alone,

watches you, alone,

playing with,

stalking. You alone.

Autumnal mischief

on the river

in the tree.

City, made for fall.