Pale ghost, long lost from a chatoyant sea, Sighing of gulls and green waves breaking high; Why do you still haunt my blue door, White ghost that weeps for a far distant sea?
Deep in my soul salt tides rise and fall, Crumbling mud wall, uprooting gray pine tree. Must I, too, haunt blue doors at dawn, If I go back to some forgotten sea?
Fog drifts up to a house in New Mexico, a dry, inland place, and the speaker sees it as a ghost: pale, weeping, and homesick for an ocean far away. The images it carries are of that sea, gulls crying and green waves breaking, so the fog seems to bring the water with it. The odd thing is that the ghost keeps returning to the speaker's blue door, as if it wants something from her.
The second stanza turns inward. Tides rise and fall in her own soul, wearing away the mud wall and tearing up a pine, which suggests a longing strong enough to damage the solid life she has built. Then comes her real question: if she went back to that half-forgotten sea, would she become a ghost too, wandering at someone else's door at dawn? The mood is wistful and eerie, a mix of nostalgia and unease. The poem suggests that going home might cost as much as staying away.