"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.