Time for Chicken and Gravy and Church

Cruising down the highway like an old song 
on Sunday afternoon and Monday too—
few notes to regret, try to do no wrong;
stay out of their way; be nobody’s fool.
I’m hopping on the slow train to the past
when there was time for chicken and gravy
and church; the hot days of summer would last,
and folks taught children about bravery.
I am going to climb Jacob’s ladder,
float up and down with heavenly angels.
Presidents’ programs will no longer matter;
I’ll be free at last from worldly angles.
I will make the journey, dance, leap, and fly,
grand adventure—all this  before I die.