Ghost Alog The Tracks Poem by Susan Gardner

Rough-cut stones ragged in roofless granite walls,
piled up, heaped on what was once the floor

Where windows were,
still perfect rectangles of the mason's craft look in

The room once low-roofed, dark, enclosed,
illuminated now by refractive rolling mist,
every standing stone silvered in waves

amidst the grasses, lupines, wild barley, verbena
rowan-ash rosy blooming reclaim their place
nourished by grounded clouds