Across a dry plain, Heat shimmering, Blur-ring in my mind... Lost track of reason, lost my rhyme... Rhythm gone to plodding, Clodding on the burning flats, Dust-deviled and limping over thorns.
Mountains are my only vision, Forcing aching feet, Tugging creaking knees, Coaxing lungs, air parched To breathe, to wheeze Toward supernal heights, Valley-ed torrents rushing Cool and green and clean....
Beckoned thus, my heavy pace Lifts lightly up; The brackish slopping In my old canteen Reminds me that the way Leads on to granite glories: Woods inhabited, Cabins warm against the alpine chill... So I keep walking still. So I keep walking still.