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On the last warm afternoon for awhile
i pulled the sheet off the thumper*
slipped into the battered leather jacket
and took a long slow ride over the ridges
and into the shaded valleys more a drift really
past old farms and across cold runs
feeling the terrain absorbing geography
once following a trail of shelled corn
that began at the sheared fields beside
the steepled church at the top of the hill
and led all the way down the mountain
to the beaten lane of a working farm
that lifted my spirits —
men hard at work in daylight.
I like to think of them as guardians.
* — a four-stroke, single-cylinder motorcycle
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| Kingwood, PA |
