From The Bus Window

east Texas morning
takes it’s time
leafless winter tree fingers
stroke the rosy dawn from
sleepy pastures
where lights
flicker in early riser windows
and coffee is starting to perk
I am alone in this crowd
contemplating the possibility
of a new day and the
serpentine path of geese
shifting lines that follow
an ancient wisdom
I try to listen but there is
nothing but a deep silence
that lives somewhere in their wings
as the world wakes below

2 thoughts on “From The Bus Window

Comments are closed.