You

You don’t believe in the afterlife. But you put a lovely old birdbath in your backyard. You smile at ghosts too. After you are gone, I visit the old neighborhood and your house is gone too. It has been razed, carted away. But the birdbath is still there. And all the birds enjoying the hell out of that birdbath on a summer’s day can’t be the same birds. But they seem to know you. The way they veer around the house that is no longer there. They fly around absence like they see it.