Ghost of Wordsworth

I thought I saw
the ghost of Wordsworth
last night
Dancing across the Lakes
I heard his voice
in the wind
sweeping over me
A cold chill
went up my spine
bringing me
to my knees
and my reality
for he is not just a poet
but a translator
of the Word
for he does not
write these metaphors
thee sweet cushions sound and cadence
these rhythmic waves
of ecstatic ever present light
but he snatches
them
right
out of the air
they hover
above the Lake
and when you linger
on the fells
these stanzas
take possession of you
get into you
under your skin
in your body and soul
you yearn to touch the flesh
and be touched
to touch the spirit
the Lakes hold mysteries
reveal secrets
never before told
of mans perfection
and primordial state
and mankind’s fall
his search in time
for what he has lost
for what he must create
The Lakes call out to him.
I thought
I saw the ghost
of Wordsworth last night.

© .2010
Stephen John Kalinich
All Rights Reserved