That road curves away

And the crossing is behind us

What was around that bend

Well, it’s still there, but we aren’t

I can’t see it, of course

And you can only guess

At how the sun, there, warmed the skin

And how the light breeze combed its fingers

Through the sheaves of your earthy hair

Why lament for water-carved canyons

And dried-up riverbeds?

Time is a map of choices

Can a compass needle, quivering,

Point everywhere at once?

(1/21/15)