I notice a movement at the far corner of the field, and I see a woman at the edge of the woods. She is trying not to watch me, but I can see that she is waiting her turn. Perhaps she is as embarrassed as I am to be in need of a little time amid these new stones, their meaning not yet sanctified by the ages. I buckle on my sandals again and nod to her as I pass, pretending that we are both walkers rather than pilgrims, pretending that we don’t both crave.
