On a John Deere D tractor, early July,
plowing a wheat field north of Cimarron:
now and then a cloud, and I was grateful,
even more grateful to see a car, pickup—
anything moving—appear on the horizon,
a dark speck north or south that grew larger,
passed along the east side of the field, dwindled,
disappeared—not over a hill—just disappeared.
My certainty that we, passerby and I,
shared something still embarrasses me.
— Roland Sodowsky