Ghosts

No wolves howling, silent prowling,
cheek-by-jowling, darkling pack.
Earthbound smells preclude attack,
shriek or scream, squawk or quack.
Birds, long muted, roost, branch-rooted
deep in sleep they wait for dawn
to crack the morning yawn that starts
the day and wakes all others as the lay
dreaming of their mortal schemes.
Still grey shadows, crouching, creeping,
tongues a-loll, alert safe-keeping
young and old ones, fast or slow
all included as they go
to vanish like morning mist
as if they never did exist.