"The sound of snow crunching under our feet

disturbs no one

makes no one come to a window

to peer out

or to a door

to flip on a light

we move like phantoms through patches of light

swallowed again and again by the night

only dog-prints and foot-prints

show we have passed"

from a poem written by Mark Hinton

(montanawriter.com/2011/12/28/poem-walking-the-dog-at-nigh...)