Not angels, but pale travelers
through time, come back
Not to condemn or to reverse
our narrow acts,
But to remind us, by their soft
Is still to come. Yet drifted, off
the mark, no thought
Of their long journey now. They cast
This fallen world not for what lasts,
but what begins.
Jared Carter’s most recent book of poems, The Land Itself, is from Monongahela Books in Morgantown, West Virginia. He lives in Indiana.