The Long Walk

The Long Walk

The long walk rests
Between my finger and my thumb
As north I look
Into an endless sun

Easy pastures,
Gentle slopes,
Steady gait
And idle jokes

I wonder if the canter
Of the day
Leads so clear
To make men stay

Because leaving is easy,
So much to do,
But none seem important
When I think of being here,
With you.

A X