Here are the crossroads where old women come
Under the quarter moon to cast their spells,
And where young lovers meet to argue out
The secret terms of their surrender.
It is a place that each sees differently—
The salesman scouting, soldiers tramping home,
The scholar napping by the riverbank
While someone else’s fortune drifts downstream.
But if you stand at crossroads long enough,
Most of the eager world comes strutting by—
Businessmen, preachers, cats—all going somewhere,
Even the Devil striking up a deal.
I used to wonder if they ever got there.
Be careful here in choosing where to turn.
You learn a lot by staying in one place
But never how the story truly ends.