Who’s there?

Just there—at the cusp of sight,

Overspilling the boundaries,

Flickering

In the dark woods of this world,

Always just beyond—

I once saw you, I think,

Or remember thinking, long ago.

It was like rain in July,

Heavy, the wind

Pushing, pushing the trees

And the air full of the wet,

Impatient scent before the first drops fell.

I ran outside and waited

For you, running in the dry grass,

Ready, more than ready,

Because the smell of the air

Was carried so by the heavy wind.

I was soaked to the skin, so

I know that you’re there, know

That somewhere, just beyond that oak

You wait with the starlight

Even though the grass around me is

Flat and dry as tinder.