The Arrival Matters

Down this white-hot avenue

In a grayish-silver haze,

I am driving under blue

And brilliant centuries of days;

And a south wind blows and blows,

Tosses the crepe-myrtle trees

White and mauve and pink and rose,

Blows the pollen and the bees;

Where the paving-lines converge

In their clot of blazing mist,

Where the sky and city merge,

Is the point where I exist.

                         Frederick Turner

From Hadean Eclogues, Story Line Press,

© 1999.  Reprinted by permission of the author.