On the road with billowing poplars, <br />In a country flat and desolate <br />To the far-off gray horizon, wherein obscurely, <br />A man and a woman went on foot, <br /> <br />Each carrying a small suitcase. <br />They were tired and had taken off <br />Their shoes and were walking on <br />Their toes, staring straight ahead. <br /> <br />Every time a car passed fast, <br />As they're wont to on such a stretch of <br />Road, empty as the crow flies, <br />How quickly they were gone-- <br /> <br />The cars, I mean, and then the drizzle <br />That brought on the early evening, <br />Little by little, and hardly a light <br />Anywhere, and then not even that.<br /><br />Charles Simic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wherein-obscurely/
