I don’t believe in ghosts
I just heard my dog groan in his sleep
He’s been gone for seven months
I think he was reminding me to feed the hummingbirds
Their food was frozen over
He was kind that way.
The hummingbirds seemed happy for the gesture.
One response to “Ghosts of The Morning”
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This piece is quietly devastating in the most beautiful way. It captures grief not as something loud or dramatic, but as a tender interruption of ordinary life. The way memory slips in—through sound, habit, care—feels deeply true. Your dog’s kindness living on through instinct and attention is especially moving; it shows how love doesn’t end, it simply changes form. And that final image of the hummingbirds, unaware yet grateful, brings a soft grace to the loss. It’s a reminder that remembrance can be an act of care, and that presence lingers long after absence.
Hello,
I’m Mark
His friends observe Mark seems wired a little differently. Perhaps it’s more likely that noticing little things often missed by others is a relic of a quieter, simpler time. He has a way with words, which he refuses to let be hindered by sub-par typing skills. People have great stories to tell if you sit and listen.
A belief dear to Mark is that there is certain beauty in the world. You simply have to look for it.
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I would love to hear you opinion as well