Today,
is the
day,
the day
that we go
home,
to a better place,
our road trip,
from Woodward, OK,
to Hill City, KS,
to another world,
to another land,
somewhere else,
out of the dust.
Ma, Pa, James, Robert and I
climb into the car,
bags and
boxes and
baked goods,
bedding and
blankets and
dollar bills.
The engine,
ignites,
roaring,
the car,
starts to move,
rolls on the
hard concrete road.
Suddenly,
a small cloud,
far away,
but as the car comes closer,
I see
that the cloud
is dust,
pure dust,
driving its way towards
the car,
a black blanket of
pure, plummeting
dust.
James and Robert
are hiding
under a spare blanket,
afraid.
I too,
Am frightful
of the dust,
quickly engulfing
our essence.
Dust,
a raging,
howling,
wolf,
its bright eye,
staring,
winding its way into my soul,
dust,
driving its way towards,
our solemn car.
April 1935
