Friday Morning
The sun dialed up another day on Friday
You could feel the corn and grass that rises in the field
Highways saw the first rays of day from the horizon
Black asphalt laid a path just right on either side
Other life forms roll on by
Trucks drive down the dawn toward blinding light
Sun glasses perched on solid noses as they squint
Strong men behind the wheels of tractor trailers grimace
Begin the work of dragging loads too heavy for the road
Streaming down the highway without a word
Blue birds avoided close collisions with the speeding demons
Larger than them but not as agile
Wings take to places they have never been
Naturally the bodies of the birds follow with them in the wind
Their guidance systems are down to a science we call time
For them it is simply the way they feel and they feel fine
Flying in the fields of green and yellow magic
Disappearing at the speed of morning light
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