At Sunset

On icy roads I drive with caution toward
my home, still seeing piles of work not done.
With traffic all around I can’t afford
to look behind to see the setting sun.

I speed the mower recklessly along
the field and hope the dark holds off a bit
to let me cut it all. A sparrow’s song
breaks through—oh, shoot, is that a rock I hit?

The fading light gives me so little time
to harvest luscious berries, blue and black.
I spent the day’s best part in corporate climb.
It isn’t fruit, but daylight hours I lack.

Oh Lord, you’ve blessed me much, but tell me when
I’ll watch, in peace, an evening sky again.