Cyparis the Lilliputian came at noon out of the dust clouds of the coastal road, out of the year’s first cold dust. As in every year before, Cyparis drove along the shore, two duns harnessed to his covered wagon, and with his whip he traced menacing, mad figures in the air, screaming at the people of Tomi the names of heroes and beautiful women. 

I am custodian of close things.
Even winter trees have blurred
To leaf, and faces come upon me