In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 119-123

Well, if I am to have a decent chance
of finding her before misfortune does,
I’d best get to the top and have a glance,
if not at where she is, at where she was.

So on and on and up and up I go,
’round curves that nearly trace my steps anew.
I did not realize it would be this slow.
I hope the little charge I got will do.

The hills on the horizon start to grow,
and then, as though responding to their cue,
the valley floor, that lay in wait below
begins its entrance into my view.

The beauty of this scenery is so,
alone it justifies what I’ve gone through.
One thing is missing from the splendor, though:
I cannot see a sign of ’52.

She can’t be on my left—too many trees,
while on my right, the slope would hold her back.
She’s nowhere in the purple-blossomed breeze
that lines the taper of the mountain track.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

Beauty: If the carriers can have ethics, I suppose they can have esthetics as well. That would be another story….