On The Road Poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black

I travel from dawn to twilight
never knowing what the
new day
born to sunrise golden
hills will bring to me

The stones and rivers
laugh at me and my load as
we wander on whispering
pine carpeted floors
while the echoes of a
thousand ancestors say
to deaf-blind me:

look upon the sky and see
and the meadows will
be your bed.


Published in the Spring 1972 edition of EVOLUTION