wherever that is

you

have no schedule, 

no appointments

for the day,

so it's fine

being lost on this long road

going nowhere.

there is the sun of course,

rising in a blush

of pink,

and the pale

wafer

of the moon,

an ornament fragile

in the sky.

you hear a rooster across

the field

near the red barn.

you see a man leaning

against

his broom,

standing on his porch.

the oval face

of his wive, against

the window inside.

what's ahead?

where are we?

will we run out of gas to where

we're going?

wherever that is?