I’ve gazed along the open road
in early morning silence,
when the ground is lit with a heady glow
and the light is clear and constant;
a milky film of night-air clings
to the silver olive leaves
and the silver sun skims the sandy ground
and throws light in drops off the trees.

I’ve gazed along the open road
in staid light fast abating,
when the sky is great with gold decay
and the sun is spent and setting;
a rich bouquet of shared-life hangs
with black and heavy fruit
till fruit and branches drop with the day
and all that’s quick falls cold and mute.