On the wet slope Where the road ends,
There are coracles
Leathery backs basking dimly

In the shade of ancient trees
The river washes
Broken temples, motorcycles and mud

We’ve come a long way
Looking at shrines hovering on mountain tops
Dawn on their sculpted roofs

Down both sides of the road
Where ridges are wavering into unwashed mist
Pillars still stand from long ago

And across from the temple, at the stony ghat
Saints wait with hippies
To cross to each day’s moonlight trance

This is the land of God
This is where he walked, wept
On this rock he saw an aquamarine sunset