On Mornings Like This
The fading moon looks upon the road
as the sun rises over a field.
Grasses dance in the wind
in a quiet place where life begins.
The first day of the week
a new place to stand
A road once torn must be rebuilt--
the weary heart bears its age.
Contrails in the sky of a jet plane
spread in the sky and disappear
another journey taken in time.
A lone worker stands in place
and a line of cars passes
people waving like friends he knew.
A breeze sings, the moon gone
never lost when remembered.
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