Open Road to Home

cotton batting clouds

eclipse a clear blue sky

white thread of a contrail stitches

a quilt of contrast

sets my mind to wondering

how many hands to quilt the sky

how many generations of women

bent over a frame

lowered from the ceiling by pulleys

after the table's been moved

after the chairs made their music,

scraping a tune across the hardwood floor

i should keep my eye on the road

but that sky, that crazy quilted sky

sets my mind to wandering

down the open road to home