Backlit in amber
She swishes her tail of dust
Rumbling over the gravel
On a line smoothed
By springs and shocks
Uneven earth pummeling tires
While stones scatter and ricochet
Off her steel undercarriage

But for the pickups and semis
This is a placid place
Where the wind is but a whisper
In the tall grass
Heard below the chatter
Of red wings and starlings

I stand to the windward side
When the pickup approaches
Share a raised hand and a nod with the driver
As is custom in lands where people are sparse
And even strangers receive the grace of acknowledgement 
Though he won’t slow his pace for the passing
Until he reaches the stop sign
Rolls through slowed and turns right
Signalless 

I watch the truck accelerate
Southbound on the pavement
The roar receding
Until it becomes a memory
Soon enough replaced
With whispers and bird song
While the wind-blown dust
Settles serene and surreal
Across the landscape
Lingers in the hollows of the road

That becomes a different photograph
And I’m not sure which I prefer
Though, all the ones I tried before the pickup
Which were spectacular in the light as I took them
I know now will seem, perhaps, a little mundane

As the shutter clicks
I offer a mental wave and nod
To the long passed pickup driver
Thanks for the scenes you set
Then offer another to serendipity