When the mist rolls in on Highway One

like a curtain to the day

A thousand silhouettes hold out their thumbs

and I see them and I say

You are my children

my sweet children

I am your poet.



With hair just like the burning tree of Moses

the girl beside you is your twin

Behind your fiery make-up you should know this

I am your sister, I am your kin, your flesh and kin

I'll write this tune

in matching phrases

just to show it



You are the orphans in an age

of no tomorrows

and with your walking you wage a war

against the sorrows

Your fathers left you

a row to hoe

and you'll hoe it.



If I could write you easy directions

on a list

you would not read it, you could not see it

for the mist

Besides my pen is

very righteous

and I know it.



So walk to the edges of a dying kingdom

There's one more summer just around the bend

The amber in your smile is brave and winsome

for though your highway has no end, it never ends

There is still the sky

the windy cliff

and the sea below it

I'd take an angel's ram horn trumpet

and I'd blow it

I'd blow it.