Nine In the Morning

To have the haven
of a friendly location
A gift given and gladly taken
My skittering kite
string held lovingly
by hands both known
and trusted
Leave the dark window behind
Drive through the burgeoning countryside
Milk weed and foxtail awaken
to the calls of robins and blackbirds
across the silver-lit water
over the arched backs of highways
down farm roads and byways
to this house filled with
both family and friends