Joe Howell (05-30-1950 / Tennessee)

If we could see with tomorrows eye,
We might find an alternate route

One less glaring, or dry from the harsh winds running rampant
Lined with the oaks from all the days before now,

Aged, with their wisdom of what has passed 'round their roots,
where all yesterdays tears have nourished their foundations,

and turned their leaves crimson and gold,
Come autumn's fall from the sun.

Stars falling in harmoney with
hearbeats, buding forth in awe.

Blue flowers, buding as I speak your name
listening in awe, and amazement.

Whispers of love and bright mornings,
enter into eagar ears, brighting eye tone.

Yet one wanders -if in another life
this way we came, seeing with tomorrows eye.