A Master is at work


The road that stretches from Hereford to Elkton


Is not that long


About the length of my arm


It twists and turns from my fingertips to my shoulder


As I drive


The colors that I see  can only come from an artist’s palate


An endless cornucopia of yellows, reds and oranges


One more vibrant and majestic than the other


I feel that this cloak of color that I wear


Is created by a Master


For all to see and to heed


Will it be a new awakening and thus greatness


Or shall it be condemnation and then dust


Time knows but we can only guess


Perhaps if we look in the mirror


And after quantifying what we have seen


We shall know what must be done


Those that do not meet the challenge


Shall like leaves


Wither and fall


To become dust