Spirits of the House Return

Revisiting my old house

in the middle of a working day,

I come in hope of meetings

that can happen only in the mind –

encounters from the ether,

incorporeal, with wistful shades

of those who once lived here with me,

beloved beyond their tenancy.

Perhaps it was the butterflies,

gauzy in the early light,

planing in on gentle rays

as if they recognised this site:

the animals I loved and lost,

children likewise, gone from view;

kindly friends (of those, too few)

who banished nightmare’s predators.

The spirit beings are everywhere,

weightless creatures of the air

with butterflies to herald them,

nostalgic for their earthly life.

for Phenia