You do not even sense
that I have returned and am near at hand
At night when the silent moon murmurs in your ear
know:
it is not the moon circling your house
I am wandering on the blue paths of your garden.
When walking on the road in the dead noon light
you stop,
frightened by the cry of a strange bird
know:
that was my heart’s call from the near banks
And when you see some shadow move in the twilight
from the far side of the dark, silent water
know:
I am walking, proud and exultant
as if beside you.