SENSES AND RECOLLECTIONS
That autumn day she sat and thought,
engaged not in society,
unseen behind the privet arch
where only soiled footwear treads.
Her company the damp leaf smell
and that of sawdust freshly cut.
Revealed not by line of sight
no sound of footsteps reached her ears,
she combed her hair a hundred times
and smoothed her flowing cotton dress,
as she recalled a man she saw.
a man without a name.