the dusty roads of Iowa

A pile of leaves has met it’s end among the muck and mud of Mother earth. I cradle them in my arms before tossing them lightly in the breeze.

Small ponies run scared from an unknown and unseen intruder. A lone sheep joins the frenzy whilst I observe from a rotting fence post. The clouds move slowly past row after row of corn and still water….you know the kind.

An empty and dusty road in the twilight of evening. I rev the engine and disappear into the dust of sunset, outracing the past toward the future…..

as I find meaning along the dusty roads of Iowa.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?