The summer days fade a bit earlier now,

Every day, inch by inch, minute by minute

As dusk gradually hastens its entrance.

Chief Blackawk and the old soldiers

off the square in Byron stand unfazed

as the twilight draws near and the dying

daylight bleeds into their eyes.

All the towns named for boys and states

along this litle river gradually fall asleep

while the farmer's nightspots bustle

and the diners enjoy the view.

Here it comes, this time of month,

when the entire giant orb can be seen,

a massive rock as it clars the horizon,

better lighting the evening sky and the river below.

the Rock is clearer to the motorists,

it can be grasped at from the roadside tables,

now the moon reflects  itself on the gentle waterway,

and teh drivers follow the road in the moonlight.

As they chase its path,

the moon gives a bright glow

and the gentle river

provides a mirror.

We chase the moon

past Mr. Deere's, with its

farm shed nightlights

winding along,

winding along,

Until the roadway goes too high

and the river goes its own way.

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