and rip through tangled leaves
as you leaped up the impossible slope
above the roadway.
Seeing is not needed for believing.
I knew it was you.
When I did see you, I was not looking.
My eyes were surveying leafy side roads
into the park as I whizzed past,
seeking the road not taken.
You can't believe everything you hear,
but you were soundless anyway.
Like an icon in a Celtic mystery
you stood in the middle of the path
hocks hidden in the mist and antlers high,
echoing branches of dead trees.
Believing is not seeing.
I know you are out there, sight unseen.
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