The pickup passes
Flicking a long tail of dust
Which prairie winds
Spread like golden icing
Across a latent landscape
Under sunset sky

Farmland is always a realm
Of hope and promise
And possibility
While also of heartbreak
And tragedy and ruin
As is any venture reliant
On the whims of nature

A single storm defines
The outcome of an entire season
For good or ill
Is saviour or saboteur

Or, as here, in Empress
No storm comes at all
And the glory of a golden-hour transformation
Only masks the calamity of dust