And the highway stretched off into the distance... a poem well framed I think.
And thank you LS for encouraging me to look at these books again.

The wind trumpets heavily, as if the bull's
triumphant bellow was rising from the lake.
Did time grow light? A leaf blown from my hands,
or moonlit ripples splashed from the silver stream.
Yesterday my son ran round this ancient ground.
It whispers. "There is only this."

g