"..the rain
is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
upon the glass and listen for reply."
~Edna St. Vincent Millay

Now that the weather has warmed it is a lovely evening walk to the outhouse. Seeing the birches stark white without their leaves against the darkness, watching the sunset and feeling the cool air dance around me makes the walk a time of meditation and immersion in the soft sounds of nature. But springtime has brought back the ghosts of the walk as well. Perhaps because it is no longer a bundled hurrying from one building to another - head down to fight the cold, but once again, swaying against the naked birches I see my three ghosts.

In my dreams, I've seen them scattered on the land - beneath our many birch groves. They guide me along and keep away the evils that always seem to hide in deep, wooded places. But my waking self has only ever met them on the evening walk to outhouse - by the birches that grow beside the window. They speak like angels: "fear not," and fade.