On an Indian Summer's Evening

The
sun
was just
setting
as
I
drove
into
Iowa.
A
big
ball
of
crimson
orange.
Drying
fields
of
soybeans
glowed
yellow
against it.
And
with
the
land
stretching
towards
the
sky;
one
could
see
a
patchwork
of
greens
and
browns.
It's
the
picture
that
is
always
in
my
mind.
Home.
An
undercurrent
of
growth
always
surging.
Dust
blew
across
the
rode.
It
gave
the
scene
the
sense
that
someone
had
spread
Vaseline
on the
lens.
The
whole
of
it
saying
yes,
and
yes,
and
yes,
and
yes.