Before Departure
Now to be gone, as will I go
And gather with the gathered be
Make be the road my rosary
The road be beads and time be string
Small graces southward carry me
Templed stones soft song their sing:
make long a string of slow
past things
make far the string of brief
life's beads
Spired stones praise skywardly
Patient stones be calling me
And morning songs of joyous trees
Sacred hymns of morning trees
Even now they whisper me
Even now, before I leave
they whisper me
they whisper me
--Amos Clifford
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