On the Round Road

                                                        So hand in hand, past the sleeping houses, fields,                                                         the woods with their greens eyes, their haunted limbs                                                         and scattered majesties, past men’s sanction,                                                          past the cherubim, in earshot of the fading vows                                                          of God – to what follows hard, made softer by your hand,                                                         we make our way.                                                                                         Our context fire,                                                         both past and future, though our quintessence                                                         dust. Something moves through us, nudging desire,                                                         thought, which has its own itinerary, which leaves                                                         us naked, lost, finally dead. But now we flirt                                                         on edges, peeking down. This life before                                                         is worth the leap, the rise is worth the fall -                                                           believe that, now, and never look ahead . . ..                                                          Far worse than us are coming.