Past the first heat of May
my road was quiet quaint and small
in the grizzled light of day
clay paints the path for fall.
My eyes alit wtih lingered breath
upon a rough hewn cross devoid of death.

The car behind kept me on my way
time seemed stuck or at least a crawl
a scarlet priest rested but did not stay
his very presence a reminder of the call.
The sky golden ambrosia in repose
that bird bright as edens rose.

This second froze, model for pay
my mind gripped that hope might forsestall
the next moments and more from decay.
The frame of vision fragile to befall
victim to the sword of damocles; time
that blade of death ever on its climb.

As I drove ahead amber light framed my way
the cardinals red enshrined to recall
bright as only living things could stay.
His throne my burden to hold tall
path to grace nailed to a tree
born and through a humble man from galilee.