Spent the day in a Willie Nelson song.

Driving the lonesome open, high desert West,

Into the welcoming sunrise, casting shadows and colors

Not seen for the rest of the day.

Downgrade, upgrade, again and again, bounded by a

Two lane ribbon of asphalt,

Wide valley wind gusting or steady.

Small settlements off in the distance,

Reachable only by dirt road.

Wide load, really wide load ahead, moving slowly,

Four lights-flashing escorts, flatbed tires as many as caterpillar legs,

Hogging both lanes, bearing unimaginable, unidentifiable load.

It moves its right side to the nonexistent shoulder,

We squeak by on its left in a shower of gravel.

Need gas, tired, a truck stop, perfect!

Having no other plan, we stealth park for the night at the

Maintenance sheds by employee parking.

We are invisible.

Trucks, the big diesel boys, are tired too.

They pull in to the large gravel lot, circle around,

Dutifully park in a well ordered row, lights out, engines off,

For some much needed rest.

Business is booming at the store, gas pumps, and fast food joint.

We join the hungry, weary crowd, unnoticed.

Back at the six-wheeled home, a panoramic view of

Sunset over the far away mesa formations,

Silhouette of sleeping trucks a closer landscape.

It is gritty desert windy.

Thunderheads in the twilight shift and swell over the horizon.

It is only a matter of time until one comes our way.

Thunder! Lightening! Big fat raindrops!

Weather with a sound track, yes! 

I sleep strangely well, rocked and buffeted by the

Omnipresent wind, occasionally woken by

A late arrival, the subsonic diesel thrumming.

Oddly comforting.