For Appius Claudius Caecus, he recognized the need for good roads.

The water lies beyond the ridge,

over the water, the ancient bridge,

across the bridge on a tedious road,

a weary pilgrim, in twilight, strode.

The road went far without a bend,

a highway sinister, without an end.

In cold, rising mist and fading light,

grey evening spirits beckoned night.

Night came, stark, dark and still,

concealed the road and distant hill,

the stars came out high and bright,

as the pilgrim faded from all sight.

When the vigil end at last had come,

with dawn-time prayer to warming sun,

the pilgrim, rested, in sunshine strode,

into the distance of this troubled road.

Blue Mountains NSW © Dermott Ryder