All roads lead to Rome

all roads lead to Rome

and so
this winding path
taking my feet
over pebbles
over open hills
towards some dark green overgrowth
must lead somewhere

stretching lines of vineyards

a troop of ducks
intent on crossing water

the rusted tractor's
sleep upon leveled wheat

the too-brilliant gold
of tourne-sols crowding fields
the reed's sudden solitude
shining in the sun

now at high noon
and in the heat and dryness
is silence
to turn back
and to walk on
were an increased sum
of sand and ways untrodden

and everywhere the sky
so close and huge
blue without a sign
of a border