Sometimes, when I meet people who have read my poems, they will eventually ask me where I get my inspiration from. Most of the time, I draw inspiration from memories or music. The memories I immerse myself in are predominantly from the trips I took with dad throughout my childhood and young adulthood. And even though I have been trucking for just shy of 30 years myself, I still tend to lean heavily on the experiences that my dad had, or the times we enjoyed together. In my opinion, dad’s generation of truckers were so much cooler than other generations, including my own. The same goes for the music that I draw inspiration from – dad’s music was simply better than the rest. Notice a common theme here? I basically idolized my dad, and the influences he had on me. These days, I spend much of my driving time in the early morning hours, taking advantage of the lighter traffic and the tranquility of the world as it sleeps. The rhythm of the tires humming on the asphalt and the lull of the diesel engine as it communicates with me through a sort of song that it sings, takes me to my “happy place” where I can meditate on the memories I cherish and start to formulate my thoughts into phrases that rhyme. Add in a splash of the world around me, as seen through a ton of windshield time, and you’ll eventually end up with a perfect recipe for some Poetry in Motion. All of this usually takes place in the tranquility of the early morning hours, rolling down the interstate… up before the sun. Photo credit to fellow contributor Art Czajkowski.
UP BEFORE THE SUN
By Trevor Hardwick
I wake up in the morning,
I’m up before the sun.
I’ve gotta light this diesel up,
And let that pony run.
I think about the road ahead,
And the rubber on the ground.
They sing a perfect harmony,
To the diesel engine sound.
I wonder about the future,
While runnin’ from the past.
And clinging to what used to be,
Because it’s all changin’ fast.
I’d like to face the future,
With an optimistic grin.
But often I don’t find myself,
In the hurry that it’s in.
I glance at all my gauges,
They’re right where they should be.
But sometimes I just wonder,
If I’d say the same for me.
The windshield leads me onward,
From what’s shaking in the mirror.
I haven’t got much choice,
But just to grab another gear.
The desert or the mountaintop,
I guess neither bother me.
I’ve traveled every beaten path,
From sea to shining sea.
I wonder if I’ve seen it all,
Or ain’t seen nothin’ yet?
Thank God I’ve still got lots to learn,
The older that I get.
What’s the point I’m tryin’ to make,
I guess I couldn’t say.
Just something that I think about,
Before the break of day.
The world is still asleep,
As I’m listenin’ to the sound.
Of a diesel engine singing,
And the rubber on the ground.
