Instead of the Thruway,
they follow the old highway along the river.
The pace seems as leisurely
as the wide river
lined on both sides by old trees
and sedate gray stone houses
and rambling walled estates
and orchards and villages.
Their faces relax
as the countryside rolls by:
sapphire river reflects
warm blue sky;
autumn ocher fields
chant hosanna to the harvest;
conversation becomes ritual,
pictorial, descriptive, reverent.
So, we can be unhurried.
