Gray Ghost Poem by Jay Hall

Nine inches of water
no where to hide
Stalking a spook
on the incoming tide
Eight weight nine foot
shouldered and ready
A glint of blurred motion
in a marl eddy
Hair on your neck
springs rigid and chilled
Ears now ringing
as if blood's to be spilled
Staring intently
seeking more clues
Maybe it's nothing
a phantom ruse
Puzzled you gaze out
to an infinite horizon
Hopeful you'll spy
prey to lay eyes on
Failing to see
what haunts you most
You are the specter
your own Gray Ghost