The Road Back

The car is heavy with children

Tugged back from summer,

Swept out of their laughing beach,

Swept out while a persistent rumour

Tells them nothing ends.

 

Today we fret and pull

On wheels, ignore our regular loss

Of time, count cows and others

While the sun moves over

Like an old albatross

We must not count nor kill.

Or watch its white bird into the ground.

 

Today, all cars,

All fathers, all mothers, all

Children and lovers will

 

There is no word for time.

Today we will

Not think to number another summer

Have to forget

About that thing in the sky,

Going around

Like a persistent rumour

That will get us yet.