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I thought I would
At every turn
Turn all of me toward turning down
How, with timely grace I would accept
The outcomes, that my life,
Through various fates,
Had born.

But even as the soils turned
From wealthy black to wistful brown
And village turned to city
And city turned to town,

Where highway gave to roadway
Or still, to path where weeds had grown,
Clearly was I not most like
A lover spurned on by perfection
Or the hungry at a feast?

Not once at any intersection
Was I but the Seeker to the Blessed
The Walker to the Water
The Student to the Test.

With sorrow and with laughter
And always with bow into the crest.
I sense that how I steer into a westward sun
Is how I will steer toward my final one

And when all my sunset days are done
That day will be my quiet one
And until that day I pledge myself
Your ever-eager guest.

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