[FOsen]

The Pursuit

I’m mountain ranges from my home,
and heat is dancing up the road.
I can’t recall what made me leave,
was it a bur, a bar, a goad?

A wandering scholar sang your praise,
extolling stations on the way;
how steep the trail, I didn’t ask,
how long the trek, he didn’t say.

Unnumbered times I’ve cursed that bard
and damned each dark, abandoned shrine,
each woman who forbad a bed,
each inn where they refused me wine.

Contesting for my forward foot
distracted me from how I went;
better I never noticed that
the path began a slow ascent,

Until at last I felt you near,
like some pursuing, taunting elf.
I hurry on, now, in a sweat
and keep my curses to myself.