where the writers are

Stephen Evans Can't sing. Can't act. Can write a little...

On Visiting Sleepy Hollow Cemetery


I looked for footprints,

sure each step had shaped the earth,

and found the earth enfolding them instead.

As I left, I noticed my own footprints,

nearly covered by wind and snow,

but still enough to follow to the road.

This must be how they shaped the earth,

I thought, with footprints

just deep enough to point the way.