There were clouds in every shade of gray imaginable
and just one patch of robin’s-egg blue
showing that there are two sides to everything
even the autumn sky;
low slung clouds,
fringed with the icy tips of impending winter;
billowing with inner winds that threaten to break through,
allowing the first pin feathers of snow to cascade to the ground.

Today I picked the grapes,
But they were not mine to eat.
They were only mine to put into
The basket at my feet.

And when the day was over,
I stood and turned for home,
But I really didn’t have one.
My home is just a room.

One room in a two room shack
I share with my three brothers.
What we own fits in a gunnysack.
And we belong only to each other.

Yes, freedom is what we share
As we move from town to town
But we hope we’ll find a place somewhere
Where we can settle down.

A church, a school, a neighborhood,
The things you overlook.
As you eat the grapes I picked today.
And page through your Redbook.