the icon of our youth, living fast,
unfettered freeway 'cross the land betwixt
reality and dreams that would not last
beyond the Cold War and computer light.
We landed on the Moon in Black-and-White,
our dreams now pixel clear and Hi-Def bright,
the asphault highway memory of night.
What sound is this now humming in my ear?
The travelling man extrapolating miles
again where he has roamed the hemishpere
to conferences, to shaking hands and smiles,
an icon speaking geologic forms,
interpreting the stony voice of Earth
itself, the oracle who reads the storms,
reveals meaning in the ocean birth of
desert land once lush with life,
exotic, wonderous, set there by God
of all creation birthed and grown in strife
as we ourselves returning to the sod
at journey's end become a tale told,
another memory so long as yet
remains an ear to hear and voice so bold
to tell and heart to care that life is sweet.