I awoke this morning with a prayer on my lips.

Perhaps that may not seem strange to you,

But it is for me who almost never prays.

Yesterday I left my daughter standing by herself

On a station platform in a far away city,

On a brand new job with a brand new boss,

Where all of her co-workers would be strangers.

As the train slowly pulled away to disappear,

Her cheery smile and airy good-bye wave

Somehow could not erase my feeling

That those lips were trembling,

The eyes were struggling to hold back her tears.

Alone, no friends, no family members near.

Even the telephone in that bare bones apartment

Had not been connected to act as a lifeline.

No longer will she be able to confide

In her mother nightly, or see her on the weekends

To go shopping or just for conversation.

They had always been so inseparable.

Now, perhaps, you may have some idea

Of why I awoke this morning with that prayer.

The struggle for equality is—

Having a place to just sleep safely

Or a square meal to eat each day

To walk in the moonlight unafraid

With the innocence of a child

To look upon the new neighbors

And be glad they are there

 

The train’s whistle echoes down the valley green.

A bell sounds clear in a scene of icicles.

Freight cars slamming, bang as they shift.

Clickety-clack wheels screech on the curve

Quaking the earth as it passes me by.

 

Lights go on, motors are started, clock alarms slammed.

A garage door squeaks protest to moving.

An angry driver squeals the tires

As he rushes out, angry at whom or what?

 

Eighteen-wheelers elbow pick-up trucks

To rush deliver today’s city needs.

A rattling sound at a nearby mine:

Coal chuting down to load the hauling cars.

 

China breaking on the ice:

Discards dumped at chinaware mill.

A grindstone whines as it burnishes the steel.

Bright orange-red flares light up the sky

As the Bessemer furnace clears its throat.

Cans rattle and jam on the assembly lines

Punctuated by staccato cannon fire

From the seamless tubing mill as rolling mills groan.

There in a narrow green valley

Where a small stream meandered

With the mainline rail, following close by,

Five young cousins gathered each day

All through that summer so long ago

To swim in the shadow of the bridge

Though they never wore a swim suit.

Within the vast sea of grass,

A single blossom dares to bloom.

From somewhere, one lone bee

Settles down among its petals.

Now life’s circle starts anew

With, perhaps, a sea of blossoms soon,

Because one single bee dared to venture

Far from the beaten path of life.

Trees were there, so we could climb,

Though only twenty feet, or so.

Tall, they seemed awfully tall to us.

You, too, would have loved the thrills,

Swaying, back and forth, perched on top.

Doubling the thrill when, occasionally,

The whole tree fell. Scared we were,

But miraculously never hurt.

That grapevine swing seemed to touch the sky.

I’d sure like to try that again, would you?