Early June, and the late sun creeps toward the river.
Brilliant oranges, golds and reds gather
On the water as the darkness spreads
Across the prairie hills.
My truck clicks and hisses and the fluids settle
After the long drive home; the warm hood evidence of
University and busy-ness left far behind.
Ahead of me I see
The peaceful prairie day dying, the long dinners
With family drawing close, the summer stretching out,
Hot and dry. Uncertainty lurks around the edges;
Questions of the autumn and classes and jobs and
Money grab at my attention.
But the prairie birds sing, and the crickets chirp,
And the wind melts the worries and
Thoughts that crowd in. And the water,
Still glowing with the fading light,
Wends a golden ribbon through the dying day.