A Volunteer

Softly the wind skitters
Dry leaves
To their random beds.

The chill  air
Is as breath
Gently tugging at the hem
Of my coat
And I inhale deeply
Joining my senses
To the quiet
Melody of morning.

The moan of a distant train
Joins the symphony
Mixing with a barking dog
The laughter of children
A block away
At their school bus stop
And the sigh of tires
From the main boulevard. 

High overhead a jet hurries
South
Unzipping the sky
In a crystalline  hush
And bright contrail.

I suppose I too
Am a volunteer
In this opus
No one but I hear
As my shoe soles
Tap the concrete
On my path into
This bright new day.