Young Traveller

Gunpowder sky-sharks

Spun, crackled; are gone

‘Neath their magic sparks

We laughed, loved and shone.

But this is silver time

Passing on by –

Fresh mountain stream

And long-drop falls –

And knowledge and winter

Have three corners:

I guess I’m on a 

Pine-wrapped path to the third:

A path that the emperor’s troops

Would know, and kneeling within,

Young traveller in older bones

Hears the truths the

Friendly way-spirits sing.

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