...glenn, i was kicking dirt clods when i stumble onto to this gem...one too heavy to kick so i carried it as i strode down your country lane, i weighed the clod, it became lighter as i walked, my feet airier...the pome floated away so lightly, so lovely...i wanted to be nestled into each scene, i heard the railroad tracks, the dust, glenn, there are too many things to say that have to do with how superb this is, i'll stop, you know , like your building, it's 10 thousand feet tall.

I even like the premise for this poem. The pictures that pop into view as I read each line, guiding my mind's eye to another place and time. As we say in the South, "another goodern!".

A wonderfully refreshing way to relate vacation times. Brings back memories!

You make travel photos unnecessary with these vivid snapshots, the leather aroma, the threadbare smock of the tearful mother, and the "old wedding gown" stanza is just inspired. Thanks for letting us travel with you.

I like your poem Glenn. We call red lights CharMin lights. With out fail I always have to stop at every light...CharMin

it is amazing how ghosts can haunt us at our respite, paused momentarily twixt our destinations and our starting points. and to gather these remarkable ghostly insights and reminiscences is indeed a treasure for all ghost gatherers to share.