Ghost Animals
       

We knew they were out there at dusk,
all that bamboo for cover, to say nothing
of the thick forsythia, distracting the eye
with its yellow flags. You know they're there
when the owls come out, telling each other
across the yards, and when the dogs
come slithering through their hatch door,
heads down and quiet. It's then
I head for the cabin.
                                I suspect they slip in
through the side window. I turn on
the lamps, not the overhead light, and say,
"Welcome," I don't want to scare them.
My "Spirit House" Mary called it, and I take
it on trust. Whatever animal comes unbidden
and invisible must have something to tell
or something to ask. I wait for the words
that can't be spoken.

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Copyright © 2021 Susan Ludvigson All rights reserved
from Wave If You Can See Me
Red Hen Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission