An Iowa dusk finds me
falling, helpless, into an endless sky.
On a road far before me
a farm truck spins a cloud of dust
that blossoms gold in the evening light
as the vehicle disappears.
Farm houses lay silent, close and flat
to a faraway horizon
while a setting sun
flames its way into the corn.
I feel the small scale of my heart
blossom and bloom in this endless place.
And everything I breathe
is earth and light and sky.