You standing under tiered Princeton arches
decorated with fleur-de-lis, please stroll
with me up these pocked stone steps. Let’s march as
lovers, adore each stride, our souls' patrol
of grand tradition lifting us forward
to that lighted garden where hydrangea
and irises guard each walk. Journey toward
Glen Coe now, our spirits sweeping ages
before the green valley’s weeping, Scotland’s
sacred river feeding us and fertile
shore. We’ll scale grass-rich cliffs to take command
of stone-spired peaks, survey valleys until
our passioned hearts implore us into hymns,
impromptu and unparalleled anthems.
Roger Armbrust
April 9, 2013
