Memories of Newts

rain drops
water into water
sending ripples to the smooth edges
where once I chipped a tooth
and newts would gather
in the spring

leaves scatter, slow
and float
carrying wayward ants
to shores unknown
and thunder
is close
comes closer

shakes the frames around our faces
blurring the lines
between us

wood floorboards creak
the ghost of a memory
footsteps once came quick
clattering down stairs
colliding with cool air
of outside
of yes
of climbing rungs of a ladder
in a tree

footsteps tiptoed
blanketed by rain
whispers, like spirits
we climbed out the window
into the woods
night’s magic thick upon us

and now
the rain has stopped
all I hear is the familiar, old clock,
the ghosts of my memories
blanketed by dust
and years