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