Almost There~

Clouds slung low and gray
like bags beneath the eyes
of morning,
and the chilly sky
closes her robe
to the first cold trembling fingers
of Autumn.

Past eye-blink towns,
and a rusted old truck
forever parked in the shade,
while Blues-Traveler plays..
trying to perk morning air,
the perfect partner to coffee
hot and inviting.

Regrets are flung out the car window
once they've been mulled over,
land at the feet of road-side sunflowers
who've heard them all before,
yet they rise above the careless thought-litter
offering grace in yellow-headed hope.

Mundane mile markers
skirt harvested lonely fields,
as one waits patiently at his crossroads,
and the motor hums an imaginary lyric of
"Almost There"...

© J