I am arraigned in listening to feet:

You who have listened long have heard us not,
Calling us fugitive names like rain, like sleet,
Saying that we are leaves the wind forgot.

Do you not remember?
Give us our due.
But for the thunder breaking from our tread
The silence would be softly deafening you,
And you be threading a needle with a thread.

Do you not remember?
Admit that we
Have quieted your fingers, flung a light
Across your mind by day and soothingly
Have wandered through your heart when there was night.