In the brilliant morning sunshine
Yellow bus and yellow leaves
Twisting, turning in the breeze
Up and down the hills of Pittsburgh
'Round its never-ending curves
Through soft'ning cloudy afternoon
Gentle ballet going home
Even as the nighttime comes
And a gentle mist descends
Moist'ning everything in path
Ever golden dance goes on
By the light of the slickery leaves
Author notes
This poem has been trying to get out for two years--the last line has been rattling around in my head for that long. Now there are the rest to go with it! For the uninitiated, "slickery" is Pittsburghese.
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