The Place

Trucks raced down the beaten path
Like a train on a broken track
Uncontrollable, thrilling
Twisting and turning down paved roads
Snow trails across like herds of sheep
Soft, quiet

The sound of the engines close behind us
The roar settling down to a purr
As we met the end of the pavement
There is nothing there, trees, an old log
But we reared forward

The kick of the four wheel drive
The sound of spinning tires
We creped our way down a narrow gap between the trees

Finally, trees scatted
Exposing a large pasture
We floored onward
Making our way through the snows deep terrain

I stepped out, snow up to my knees,
He pulled the snow blower out from the bed,
Putting it on the ground, and pulled the starter
Curious, I sat back in the truck, watching

We unloaded fire wood
Stacking them large and tall
Oil seeped over top, creating a heavy black blanket
Flames spewed as the match kissed its greasy glaze
Warmth instantly touched my face
A slight burning till I stepped back

The sound of “Country Boy Can Survive” blared behind me
The cooling winter breeze chilled my lungs
Icy but satisfying

The night went on, the fire dimmed
The coals glisten like the stars that were beginning to fade
The sun peering up from the lake side on the right of me
The morning met the tailgates
As trucks raced down the beaten path





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