For Catharine Edwards
I have dug gently through this stone and earth
through blistering day into chilling night
sensing something of lasting, sacred worth
awaits us. I honor with candlelight
this vigil—labor south of Hadrian’s
Wall—while others sleep the sleep of ancient
legions. Though awake I dream of Roman
nights with you, your soft eyes now a distant
art. I listen for your wise, gentle words…
my small spade stalls. I lift from stubborn loam
a leaf-tablet’s fragment. My tired eyes blurred,
I steady it near soft candleflame. Rome
sings. I wipe clean a broken phrase (Latin
sent surely from you to me): Amor vin…
Roger Armbrust
July 18, 2011
