Half Full

A winter walk.
Robust.
Stoned.
Naked tree's launch their limbs towards sky.
Clouds from the dream factory float by.
A crows throaty hunger calling.
And the honking song of geese.
We too, souls famished, search for better places.
Where the ghosts won't chase us...
The winter trees ask me - Are you empty too?
I am trying to see myself as half full....