The Ones We Recognize

Once in awhile in strange, alien spots
Like ungodly crowded city saloons,
Or running to catch that last midnight flight,
Or swarming around metropolitan malls--
There will pass by your nose just the breath of a hint
And somehow you know, feel deep in your soul
That somewhere close by walks a one of your own.

Though she be far away in the midst of a crowd
Or perhaps he walks on the opposite street,
But you know, and you see, and your eyes will still meet,
For the stink of the sage, and horse sweat, and sky
All trail behind as easily known, and as easily seen
As the sparkle of air, the bawl of a calf,
Or the clean dirt smell of a rain.

While you may never speak, your psyches have spoke
In ways that talk quiet of home where it's empty--
That sing of a land full of grass and expanse.
You can mix with the herd, but you are still set apart
By unsayable things and intangible glints
Of time, and of space, and of things of the heart.

There through the crowd strolls a friend I don't know
Maybe we'll meet, and maybe we won't,
But we see and we know and our knowing is proud

And this feeling we share is almost as good as

...being back there.