Essences May Be Left or Carried

We don’t walk. We can’t far.
We try to understand
All you walking writers—

The many novelists,
Poets, especially
Essayists—the flâneurs

And the nature writers.
We sort of understand
What you seek and enjoy

On your rambles with us,
A few of us at least,
On the tips of your tongues,

In your minds and pockets.
We try to understand
What you mean by us, but

We can’t. We would prefer
To wait here while you walk
And watch what you can’t see,

How the world looks without
You in it, strolling through.
Return, we might tell you.