Preacher man’s got a good sermon for us sprouts.
Free-willing we follow the straight and narrow.
Searchers of truth and gold on the Sante Fe rail,
we’ll chase that bow ’til each one blisters a toe.
“That preacher’s a liar!” someone finally says
to the tracks shooting straight ever after.
We hang our heads low and discover under toe
Rainbow colors; a reflective glass treasure!