Ordinarily I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend,
for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable.

I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree.
I have my way of praying, as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible.
I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned.

I can hear the almost unbearable sound of the roses singing.

If you have ever gone to the woods with me,
I must love you very much.