Buen Camino!

From Saint Jean to Santiago
a las siete we set out
sore and confused
aching for sleep
The splendour of the sky
looking on
we pass it by
torches searching
paths and walls
A faraway farm dog barks
but the curs in the lane
do not stir
Ahead in the woods
the owls call
"Peregrinos!"
"Peregrinos!"
"How are your knees?"
"How are your feet?"