My Grandmother's Ghost by James Wright

She skimmed the yellow water like a moth,

Trailing her feet across the shallow stream;

She saw the berries, paused and sampled them

Where a slight spider cleaned his narrow tooth.
Light in the air, she fluttered up the path,

So delicate to shun the leaves and damp,

Like some young wife, holding a slender lamp

To find her stray child, or the moon, or both.

Even before she reached the empty house,

She beat her wings ever so lightly, rose,

Followed a bee where apples blew like snow;

And then, forgetting what she wanted there,

Too full of blossom and green light to care,

She hurried to the ground, and slipped below.