Morning Journey
The quiet route unspools the day—
sunrise kindles blacktop,
wheels whisper across awakening light.
Kansas exhales hay, walnut, grass;
cottonwoods bead their resin prayers.
Doors open like offerings—
smiles drift in,
warm as poured sunlight.
We gather in motion,
peace beside us,
rain-washed streets stitched with goldenrod.
Each breath a homecoming,
each mile a soft remembering—
we are the morning,
arriving together.