I am.

Along these sprawling streets
I have walked in rain and sun
In the bitterest sting of winter
And the brightest light of summer.

You think I do not know you?
How wrong you are.
There is nothing
I do not see or hear.

I am the shadow that passes by your window,
Disappearing quickly at your glance, as you ask,
“What was that?”
But I am gone.

Before your mean streets,
I was.
After them,
I will be.
I am the spirit of these hills,
I am what you have lost.