"Transition"

"Transition"

Greg Budig 2021

The morning is made of 

lead and gray shadows. 

Muted soft outlines of 

houses and trees.

Of stop signs and 

powerlines, of 

trash cans and 

leaves. 

The four a.m. 

freight train rumbles 

in the distance. 

Steel grinding on 

tracks that are 

ancient and worn.

It's wailing horn 

echoes through town. 

Cars stuck at 

stop lights burning 

red for no reason. 

There is no one in 

sight, fingers tap 

on the wheel. 

Impatiently waiting. 

The caffeine has set in. 

The rats will start racing.

Noses placed against stone. 

Another day, another 

dollar it's said. 

This journey seems 

endless on gray

Monday mornings

like this. 

Clearing his voice

a robin starts singing. 

The choir will be 

many, but now 

there's just one. 

A song of 

transition from 

darkness to light. 

The End