This country road
of white and gray
Lies in quiet
before the day
Lines of smoke
from fading night
Blend with mists
in growing light
These empty moments
when heart is still
Hold the presence
of finer will
And rustles from
the waist high grass
Soothe spirits held
by wood and glass
As minutes grow
and collect within
A tear is brushed
by gentle wind
For a lonely road
that splits the field
Is loved by few
but can so heal
Poetry and Verse 