Blocked east breeze from hot hills
Across tracks ran road through shade
Lined by trees of sycamore jade.
Red bandana wiped his brow at the scales
Weighed a grain load from the truck
Watched her walk over hot pasture
Near the line of sycamore jade
The truck drove off and elevator started
Her image shimmered in heat waves hot
Then in the shadows she was lost
In the lane of sycamore jade.
He watched the tree shadows across the tracks
She emerged on the road in jeans and flats
She walked the hot gravel drive
From the shade of sycamore jade.
He led her between tall tanks
Dark but not cool, they kissed
In grain dust smell and pressed
Against hard steel to caress.
Gravel crunched to interrupt a truck arrived
Hugged hot they emerged the steel cave
Across gravel and tracks they held hands
In the shade of sycamore jade.
She was gone and quiet it came
The truck gone, the elevator still
A meadow lark sang its trill
Near the shade of sycamore jade.
--Tim D., Adult