Paul watched a ghost bird
fly over a stonewall
then vanished.
The stonewall
on the mountain ridge line
sunk deeply and appeared as a raised path.
He believed it marked a boundary
between this world
and the next.
Sometimes when he approached it
he choked up
and moved no closer.
Other times he felt invisible lassoes
fall short of looping him
from beyond.
He saw a Roosevelt Elk
approach the wall opposite him
to nibble greener grasses.
Paul collected the poems
that leaked through the gaps
in the stones
or bubbled up lower on the mountain
as a spring—the fountain of all life
for all he knew.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 