Thursday, December 09, 2004


They call to us
To strike camp,

Pegs to be pulled,
Tents to be folded,
Mules to be burdened.

We passed the dawn
Doing this and making plans.

Our choice
Was swamp or mountain;

Delirium or travail.

No fields,
No paths,
No garden like brooks

To ease our trail
To sooth our weary feet.

We must choose
Between these choiceless options

Destined by our destination.

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