III
I like this secret walking 
in the fog; 
unseen, unheard,
among the bushes 
thick with drops; 
the solid path invisible 
a rod away—
and only the narrow present is alive.

IV
I like this walk in the morning 
among flowers and trees.
Only the birds are noisy.
But if they talk to me,
no matter how witty or wrong, 
I do not have to answer; 
and if they order me about, 
I do not have to obey.