It’s good again to be back on the roadmy roots and skirts in my arms, horizons broad;
the moon-cool night at my back, silver-soft
flimsy clouds overhead in travel mode,
free again from what’s lost, both odds and gods,weave the roots into cloth and pin with clods;
the moon hushes whisper light and all talk’s stopped,
sapphire fire’s in the stars, the breeze an ode.