Vanishing Point
In my rearview mirror, the cloudlike skyline of the front range of the Rockies, slowly receding from view.
Through my windshield I can see an exercise in one point perspective.
Passing a prairie dog town with a lone sentinel, and harvest fields brown in the early morning sun.
Some folks might see a flat landscape, but the road rises and dips like ocean swells,
Cresting a long hill, I gasp at the sight.
The prairie, in all of its glory, a breathtaking sea of golden tan in the morning sun.
- the man at the river
- the manager at my hotel (more about her, later!)
- the plumber who came to install a new shower head in my bathroom
- the clerk at WalMart