The path knew before the footstep; br even before the ghost of a shape br passed above the stones and mud. br br From weed-watch, wilderness eyes br followed shadows through wood; br breath held at the slow trespass. br br The sun saw before the trees heard, br the flesh and blood, armed in fibres; br invading, foot first, through this garden. br br Even before the smells of the sheep br were detected in the cold red nose br that same face walked oblivious in nature. br br And the voice that runs over fields br would recognise the words of winds br before the lips had a chance to tremble. br br The gate shut before the hand reached; br turning hinges above a hoof-print br that laughs in mud at the step of a shoe.