Yeats at 4th & Madison

Girls in small glasses and men in long coats
wait for their buses. Beyond the bank,
behind the courthouse, the highway and hotels,
there are places you and I cannot see.

Stairs lead halfway up a hill. Climb them.
A hedge has no gate. Walk through it.
Leaves spin in the road. Step into the wind.
Piled stones shift in the grass. Stand atop them.

Above the highest step, through the hedge,
carried on the air with the whirling leaves,
balanced on rocks tumbling from beneath your feet,
you’ll find the world that shimmers and glows.

In the space between those buildings and buses,
take my hand and close your eyes. Go there with me now.

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