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