To the west, telephone poles, with their wires hanging like thin smiles, keep silent count of my progress
A single star shines in a sky of teal, and peach and plum.
The fenceposts & prairie grass are a blur as the silhouettes of trees lazily crawl by in the distant evening mist.
To the east, the pulsing red-light of a radio tower beats like a neon heart, rhythmically greeting the night. Or perhaps saying goodbye to the setting sun?
The hum of the tires no longer registers, and it is quiet, and undeniably beautiful.