Ghosts

Jade fields once oxen-plowed
earth that sung with a sweet sharp scent
these mornings, only the mist
leaves furrows through the vibrant grass

Here a wall stood, gray-flecked granite,
cool conglomerate, solid and still,
crumbles now, gaps and loose stones,
dust settles in the empty spaces

Streams where small fish flickered
and children splashed in the shallows:
stones dry for decades
stare, empty eyes, at the sun,
remembering, remembering