Routes

This is a season we have never known
as intimately as we will, now, in
a stranger land. These paths, so old within
their time, are new to us, and in their own
worn ways must still be broken in. Unknown
is this wide sky, where different hazes screen
the mornings with their shades of night; unseen
are centuries past, where roads have overgrown.
Come, come with me. The rains are colder here
but never has my heart felt quite so warm.
These nights are our new world, and in your hands
I put my own, that we may learn to steer
away from potholes or weather any storm –
and fill ourselves with dreams of newer lands.

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