The meadows between here and there,
an impediment now,
like the roads, sky, cities.
I’ve no time, no time
to appreciate the colorful heads of wildflowers
or any verdant greens of tall roadside grasses,
or swaying graceful golds of fields.
All these measuring meadows of distance—
Sky, road, cities, fields–
meadows of separation,
meadows of longing,
meadows of want—
should know a burnless flame