with summer still in their eyes
The sun was setting earlier than yesterday, and the cows
were uneventful. The road would bring no more traffic
that evening. Fifteen miles a way, a town rested its tired arms.
The travelers were tired, too. They cobbled dinner together
from the findings in a country store - iceberg lettuce, baked potatoes,
a wedge of local cheese - then slunk outdoors to catch the final light.
They each felt a scratch at their backs, a new season tapping its nails
against their thin shirts. They knew this moment couldn't last.
And yet, with summer still in their eyes, they waited until the final rays
disappeared behind the mountains, until the stars arrived, like answers.