On the street
After sunset;
You're a spirit.
I watch you
Stay in the shadows
And enter the woods;
I know you—
I’ve entered your mind
By watching.
I’m not sure you see me
Or if we met
You would talk to me;
I noticed you last winter
Crossing the field
In perfect stillness…
Leaving no footprints.
A snow squall
Surrounded you
And you disappeared
Into perfect whiteness.
You left no trace
Of your presence
But disturbed
My placid universe,
Marking the landscape
Within me.
I would talk with you
If we met;
I know all your secrets.
To enter someone’s life
You're either a confessor
Or writer—
The one, admitted freely,
The other,
By way of spirit.