The passing stranger stands before first light
He smiles with warmth, the wind outside blows strong.
He takes one path, neither to left or right
With commitment to a day twelve hours long.
The short but lasting impression he gives
Stays during a succeeding two-hour drive.
In my silent, pensive thoughts he now lives
Drifting like a cloud, gone with a sigh.
Were there more such kind strangers to be found
And cobalt blue would flush the sky with gold
I would then drive out the chance crying sound
Of whispers past trying that now enfold.
At six in the morning my soul did find
An offer that one stranger left behind.