Can you see them
Can you hear them
As they fly unseen through the air?
As they watch us from all around
Oft seemingly without care.
Spirits roam this earthly plain
A product of joy or pain
Invisible if they wish, but sometimes not
A shimmer, a feeling, a presence in the air
A stirring within one’s very heart
An untold reason to fear the dark.
They watch, they guide, they sometimes play tricks
But never do they depart.
They are the old ones
Spirits of the land.
The God’s of old, the ancestors of times gone by.
Sometimes they simply drop in to say hi.
RedRavenPoems 
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