This
is what the years throw
in my face:

an old man's reflection,
a final maneuver
and a half-flight of stairs
down to the Earth's surface;

Shabtai Zisl ben Avraham on repeat
behind me
across the reach of the past,

and the land stretched before me
with railway
and first class

through wildernesses glowing glowworm-lit
through forests

rustling in eldertongue