ONLY GHOSTS AND ANGELS
Between the stretching dark clad arms
of towering rock and wooded hill
and under blackened stormy skies
yet not reflecting heavens stars
the metal sheeted river runs .
Along its course the wind blows cold
and freezes mud in rutted tracks
worn deep by laden carts that groan
in passage to a desolate place
where crosses of the dead lie ranked.
Encompassed by the murmuring trees
their long dark shadows scornful cast
in radiating pools of light
across the weeping grassy tufts
where only ghosts and angels tread.