Traveling in our own country
in that edge of time
between autumn and winter
The few tenacious trees that
still cling to vibrant songs of red
so joyous in defiant singing
in the concert of grey, brown and dark green
that has begun.
Not like the holiday travels
in warmth and sunshine
we wake to darkness and drive
until well after darkness comes again
shivering inside to think
of working in the cold of night
to create some little home
to shelter sleep.
This first night instead
tired and full of the sickness
stretching around the globe
like a fungus
we find a motel by the road
and feel the comfort
of a bed and sheets and
nice soap
as if travellers from
a place of tents
and beds on hard ground.