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.