At the gas station,
We squint our eyes to see the farmlands,
Our hands in our pockets.
The sun touches upon these hills,
And though we are aware it is January,
We find ourselves lost in southern seasons.
Hay in our hair and on our shoulders,
Sweet burnished yellow.
Ears of corn,
And corn coming out of our ears,
We close our eyes and wish for a red one.
The cats meow and yowl,
Over the sound of my hammering.
I laugh and test them.
We’ve found that happiness is cheering
When we cross state lines,
And then look to smile at our hands.
We’ve found that we are only one,
But we are one,
That the ninety-six year old man
Was nineteen years old at one time,
That dignity is real,
And that faith holds people together.
We’ve found that some folks have no time to grow old,
That everyone asks us to come back and visit some time,
And that it feels good when something needs to be done,
So we do it,
And it’s done.
On this day of days,
We are thankful that we are here,
And full of many new things to think about,
And many new jobs to do.