Evening Walk

--Charles Simic

You give the appearance of listening

To my thoughts, O trees,

Bent over the road I am walking

On a late summer evening

When every one of you is a steep staircase

The night is slowly descending.

The high leaves like my mother’s lips

Forever trembling, unable to decide,

For there’s a bit of wind,

And it’s like hearing voices,

Or a mouth full of muffled laughter,

A huge dark mouth we can all fit in

Suddenly covered by a hand.

Everything quiet. Light

Of some other evening strolling ahead,

Long-ago evening of silk dresses,

Bare feet, hair unpinned and falling.

Happy heart, what heavy steps you take

As you follow after them in the shadows.

The sky at the road’s end cloudless and blue.

The night birds like children

Who won’t come to dinner.

Lost children in the darkening woods.