52 The Meadow Childhood Joseph Fasano ...bewildered at having to go on —Rilke When we have come to the end of its thickets; when we have gone back, one last time, to the houses; when we have shut away the old books of our hours, we can step out, at last, through the thresholds, the voices of the lost in the doorways like all the foliage of October; we can wade out through the heft of them, in the wind. Listen. There are night-birds in the air tonight, the new moon moving through the spruces like a roan colt dragging its saddle. This is the way, now, the only way. This
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