On My Way From Frescaloosa

On my way from Frescaloosa
I met a traveller all in green
He asked directions of the locals
His face was in and out of focus
Who he was could not be seen
Like in a dream

Was there any way to know
What it might mean?
Or would the unknown nearness grow
Until the curtained silence seemed
To darken in the evening glow
And drop like rain
Warm and gentle did the south wind blow