Off

 

Get off the highway

Onto a broken road

That separates a wheatfield

From a bare expanse of grass

 

Where silos tower

In the silence of the morning

Under a winter sky

Above the frozen earth.

 

There is someone waiting there

Who does not know he’s waiting,

With a story to tell

To someone who might be you.

 

There is probably coffee -

There is almost certainly coffee -

In a cracked enamel pot

Like everyone used to have;

 

And there is always time there,

Always and always time,

To pour and ponder,

Speak and wait to speak.

 

The clocks have stopped;

Even the sun is changeless;

And the old earth waits,

In no hurry, for your heart.