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Running Down The Road
Sunday morning, early, riding to work.
Up the ramp, onto the “I” heading east,
Half-light of pre-dawn floods the landscape.
Colorado River, a silver ribbon off to my right,
Looks like a miniature glacier flowing through the land.
I pass stacks of fresh-baled hay, some farmer’s
Cash crop and job well done.
Irrigation sprinklers shooting chrome drops of water
Onto the fresh green grass.
Past Burning Mountain, where firefighters died
Protecting people, land, and homes.
Sound of exhaust is mixed with harmonies
Of transmission gears meshing.
Music of running down the road,
Sunday morning, early.
Sunday morning, early, riding to work.
Up the ramp, onto the “I” heading east,
Half-light of pre-dawn floods the landscape.
Colorado River, a silver ribbon off to my right,
Looks like a miniature glacier flowing through the land.
I pass stacks of fresh-baled hay, some farmer’s
Cash crop and job well done.
Irrigation sprinklers shooting chrome drops of water
Onto the fresh green grass.
Past Burning Mountain, where firefighters died
Protecting people, land, and homes.
Sound of exhaust is mixed with harmonies
Of transmission gears meshing.
Music of running down the road,
Sunday morning, early.