the prosper road

the tree seems like a giant stag above the pass
the road jogs up and down mostly southwest
the sun will be down before I reach the crest
and take the downhill turn the wind bends grass
on the slopes below the sky seems almost glass
so clear the dying light the clouds are dressed
in their finest colours almost they suggest
a heaven of joy beyond their ethereal mass
and then velvet sky and the small house lights
the road is rocky and its gleaming white trail
is almost innocent of trucks or vans or cars
only the locals get to note these sights
onward i go as sun's last glimmers fail
and looking upward watch the wheeling stars