MELANCHOLY ROAD

first thing in the morning
as the pewter sky changes
just before into the golden sunrise

across the land shivering
under a frost crusted blanket
life is still, dead quiet

between the land and the horizon
lies a half frozen pond, one-eyed
ready to reflect a bashful moon up high

into the stilled darkness being enveloped
comes a mournful cry, animal or bird, there by
a single way that leads out, down melancholy road

by Michael Perry