I wonder if I'll see you again, or if you ever tried
to send a coded message everywhere that I am blind.
I hope you know I never had an eye for reading minds.
Maybe it was written in a language I can't read
between the hidden syllables of words I cannot speak.
Or maybe it's in the way I constantly long to be
somewhere in the redwoods umbrella'd by the canopy
in a drizzle of rain,
fog creeping into mist,
while owls read their poems
with nothing to do but to exist.