The hidden things haunt the most.
I don't know why the moon looms so large tonight
nor why the sun took so long to set.
Maybe the ravens there have an answer for you
They've been watching us quite closely
And I've noticed the hogs are all in an uproar
over something, probably nothing, just hungry
Or maybe it's just the slant of light bouncing
Or not, probably just a trick
I can smell the wild mint now;
it travels on the wind
masking all things
along its path to us
I don't know what kind of thing would follow
the wind across a patch of mint to the troughs here
But whatever it is, it doesn't push open
doors that are latched
it doesn't sing at night
like you said you heard
Don't think I wasn't listening
I heard you say, singing
Singing like a choir of boys, you said
Boys' voices carry on the wind like mint.