arriving at noon

this is the border and you have to pass
across the line there's nothing you can test
on this dry side you have lost your behest
the wind has told you secrets of the grass
and you are bored with them they have no class
no great significance and you detest
all you've been taught here it is one more jest
out of the thousands all of them most crass
so now you look across and hope to view
some sign of change that might match your desire
to see those things that you know they would hide
from your eye's sight you crave the urgent new
and want to leave behind the raving fire
as memory and marker of your pride