The only thought on my mind down
this rural road is not the persistent strain on my back or the coarse dirt
lathered onto my skin, but the lone thought of home. I have been down desolate roads many times
during the night but never at this time of day when the sun begins its gradual
decent into the depths of the horizon.
As I remove my aviator shades, I notice an ember tone like hue that embraces
me. My eyes tilt lazily up to a conflation of defining bold streaks of magenta
and scarlet that streak across swiftly against deep shades of wheat yellow and
an ocean blue sky as if painted by an avant garde artist defying technique
through reckless, unmediated strokes. I gaze into the distance beyond at a setting
blood red sun that tints our white Chevy truck vividly with a spectrum of warm
tones as dim chatoyant sunlight is reflected by the hood’s smooth angel white surface.
I remember the wind smooth and cool as menthol
and forgiving to a still daytime sun, dry as whiskey that shone down upon me
before adamantly but has now become comforting and a companion in a sense of consensual
dominion. We drive pass wheat fields that lean against the wind in uniformity like
a carefully orchestrated symphony, transcending in movement slowly from steady
to the crescendo and worn crimson painted barns so quiet as if locked in time. The
fields of wheat emulate a deep gold color with the light of the sun sparkling
and dancing at its thin tips. The stench of Grizzly Winter Green chewing tobacco, Marlboro Red
cigarettes, natural air, and mowed grass permeates like a strong perfume
throughout the truck forming in cohesion with the sun sky and wind, the silent
core of nature’s deafening call. The only thought on my mind is home. A man
goes to many places in his life but he will always remember home and so from
there on, I never found myself lost where there is the sky to look upon. I can
chase this sun forever into nowhere because at that moment the only thought on
my mind was home.
