News From the Front

Light on landscape is art
if someone sees it that way.
Sound is music
to those who hear it,
the heater fan’s whir
backed up by Dylan
and the engine’s purr,
maybe your voice joining
the choir in your head
stomping boots or shoes,
whomping leather gloves
in time and solidarity
to the Workingman’s Blues,
your breath billowing
in the cab, fingers and legs
cold-stiff, yet the sun burns
warm on your face as
you begin another mundane
Monday depressing
the clutch, engaging reverse,
rolling back to roll ahead,
shift to first, accelerate
into the street, the flow
of the week, squinting
and savoring the heat
on your skin, you smile
at this gift for taking it all
in, this living to sing
softly till the long night
begins, a melancholy tribute
to working class women
and men who created a life,
this art of living the blues.

—after Dylan again

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