Able at last to stop
And recall the days it took
To get them here, they sit
On the the porch in rockers
Letting the faded light
Of afternoon carry them off.
I see them moving back
And forth over the dullness
Of the past, covering ground
They did not know was there,
And ending up with nothing
Save what might have been.
And so they sit, gazing
Out between the trees
Until in all that vacant
Wash of sky, the winded
Vision of each one
Gains weight and falls.
It is too late to travel
Or even find a reason
To make it seem worthwhile.
Already now, the evening
Reaches out to take
The aging world away.
And soon the dark will come,
And these tired elders feel
The need to go indoors
Where each will lie alone
In the deep and sheepless
Pastures of a long sleep.