(C) R.L.K.
1.
A chilly grey December day:
All morning long, while the trees
Empty around us, we walk on,
While the wet wind swoops down
On the last songbirds, we walk on.
2.
After the downpour,
The moon, busy drifting among clouds,
Spares us a moment
To pour a little light
On the highway.
3.
Clouds parting, a glimpse
Of a few stars, train rolling
Slowly down the hill;
"Bless the path on which we go" --
The long haul's nearly over.
