For M.W.

There’s one intelligence
that lays a path
and another that,
seeing the lay of the ground,
goes another way.
The first deliberates
and spaces,
has men at its command
to implement its vision.
The other
sees mainly a goal,
directs its steps more directly,
and its many feet
wear a course into being.
They exist side by side, these paths,
the tarred, circuitous one
and the groove worn
by folk wisdom
to the top of the hill.
Desire lines,
a way asserted
in this grid
of making our space,
of taking our time.
Give me
the courage of mine.