One evening as I dig and hoe,
I chance upon parades of souls,
Proceeding past the garden’s end.
Electing not to comprehend
The point of our respective roles,
I follow, distantly and slow,
Then stop, astonished, in the woods.
For my intruder’s eye can see
The souls span humankind, of course,
But plants and beasts are there in force;
You find a man, an ass or tree:
Our whole once-living worldly goods.
I turn, splash water from a stream,
And wonder if it was a dream.