The ghosts danced across the road,
Barely perceived except the occasional shimmering glint,
Caught in my headlights.
They flitted across the corners of my vision,
Only visible when I wasn’t looking for them,
And didn’t want to see them.
They surrounded my car, a swirling mass of shouting voices,
Rocking my frame, lashing against the windshield,
And then vanishing into the darkness.
Their howls and moans rising and falling,
Their swarms attacking in waves,
Their terror never fading.
The ghosts had other motorists to haunt,
As they flew loose and free about the world,
Driven by the wind.
I hate the wind…