"That's where the ghosts are,"

said the woman.

Just a field it was, when

came of a sudden a breeze

 to make a sad song of the oaks and elms

and gave us pause.

"We respect them," she said

not wanting to upset their cause

"and most times stay away."

Shivering I turned and made for the house

as clouds bore down making dense the cloak of trees

near the end of that autumn day.