As we came around the shaded bend, we noticed change
White flecked ivy had grown where there was none before
Colors of rust leaked into ducts etched by spring’s harsh rains
Mist clutched to the corners that could no longer endure
Waspish query crawled from the cracks in our minds
Are our alterations so apparent?
Are our marks more obscure?
Is times lash as severe on skin as stone?
And yet, for every pressure-chipped fissure,
--a tale was told
For all the weather-worn edges,
--a new surface exposed
This gilded epiphany proved the Rubicon’s fare,
--sparkful as flinted manna settling our stride
Now the axioms of the bend unfold like an altered insect,
--and we walk with rejuvenated wonder
Conscious that all seasons blend from buds
While still ignoring the crystalline clink of two coins for the coming ferry