The seer

That late night, the Elder was in the garden picking up the shards of vases and flower pots. He had taken the last piece and tied up the trash bag. He looked at the road. The lamp post dawned on a man with cornrows. He walked so subtly in his full vintage tweed regalia. The Elder dropped the trash bag and stared at the lonely seer with a feeling of awe. He waved to hail his presence and followed suit with a low bow. He rushed in to get his place ready to host the seer. He had cleared the carpet and sprayed the room with a light fume fragrance. He peeped out the door-hole and the front yard right to the porch was empty and quiet. He keened in his senses but he heard no breaths or steps. He opened the door with angst. He walked around the garden and spotted footprints on his doorstep. The door shut behind him and he looked back. He ran back in to see who had invaded his space. The seer was the master of stealth.  He opened the door and hung back his trench coat. Another coverall was alre