SCATARIE
A mist sweeps in from Scatarie
It hangs among the tangled trees.
Floating through the bones of a vacant abide
Bones where not even a ghost could hide.
So I could see them everywhere
Hiding in the forest hair.
Gliding through the timber still standing
Posing on the upstairs landing.
Even the outhouse had a guest
I guess it must be a good place to rest.