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POEM: THE VISITOR

The VISITOR

Meeting his own ghost on the stairway 
coming down


the old man stood transfixed on the landing
the evening sun slanting in 
the empty echo rooms
 whispering 
of yesterdays passed away

the ghost stood looking down
 
a knowing smile in the shadows 
passed between them
high over head, above the house
, a hawk circled
riding the wind, waiting for the moment
to fold his wings then descend
spiraling into the conversation
the moment is complete

By David Wetzel

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