The Trip Poem by William Kruse

Beneath a sky of many grays,
We traveled sunless many days.
Yet autumn’s splendor reigned supreme,
With vivid golds and tangerine,
Crimson, bronze, deep plum hues,
Forest green and indigo blue.

When, at last, a blue sky dawned,
We went to Biddeford, Bath and beyond;
To the Portland Head Light and the “Cliff of Death”
And scenes that took away our breath.
On to the Desert and to Land’s End
And into the homes of family and friends.

Manhattan lurked beneath a cloud
Of fog that hung there like a shroud.
Thank goodness, though, for Jersey, too
Was shielded from my point of view.
From Kansas City to Portland, Maine;
From the heart to the coast and back again.