The Stranger

The Stranger

After the snows had melted,
After the rain had gone,
A stranger came.

The impressions he
Unwittingly made
Can still be seen in the mud
Where the woods abate and the garden begins.

He smiled often
And tried to learn our names.
His greatest passion was the commonplace.
He never talked with us during his stay.
He only asked us many little questions
Which even the children among us could have answered,
How the seeds are sown or harvests reaped.

He came from far away, he claimed,
To learn ways which are new.

He was most careful as he walked away
Not to tread upon our seedling plants.
He stopped, briefly, to brush some dust away.

He stayed with us one month,
And left us saying we are always Spring.

(written circa 1965)

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