Today I’m holding court with

my ghosts. They sit on the

porch in May sunshine

and talk about spring while

I look them over and think

about olden days and sort

out my regrets, putting

them in boxes. I sort

them by degree; they’re

not very pretty. I am glad

to put them away and

remember only what was good. My

ghosts are benign

fellows; they all go away

still loving me, not

able to sense how I’ve

disappointed them.

by Cher Bibler