She felt him in the sign: in yellow light of golden hour in sky-fall all around, glowing western sky in immolation that did not consume, but awed, and cast in span to reach and frame of horizon in all directions of her vast and open view.
She felt him in the dazzle. She felt him in the awe, how—by expression—romance glowed; tempering, touching, changing all the world in breadth and touch; a beauty seen, lived, and sensed that, before effect, hadn’t been.
She saw it then. Partly sky, partly soul-projection of herself reflected in heaven’s own return; she drove in the moment of dazzle and awe; awash in the light and life-attune to present and also dream.
In dazzle and cast and light-fall sky, she mused. She mused on her drive, all she passed—of mostly empty, as world would claim and say—from beginning point to end: two once-cow towns presented as more at eastern edge of once-wild prairie.
On radio, new song began that took her back in time, time before she left small town she’d always known as home, moving and growing into who she wanted to become and, too, unknowing, leaving parts of past and self behind. She learned, in moving, one cannot take it all—not even all of one’s self tied to a place and time.
There were times, in mind, she still returned. Didn’t all who ever left, or were there some who could truly leave and not look back?
She’d returned to the home, hidden in trees, where she felt the magic still; but the town, she rarely went back.
Song played, she thought town then—and him.
“Bet you’d look good on a two-lane backroad:
Feet on the dash, hand out the window.
I want to ride all night, you sittin’ to my right
Til we get tomorrow shinin’ in the headlights.
I want to show you around this little farmtown;
Find some places that we can’t be found, girl.
Just want to take my time, you and me baby,
I want to ride all night.”
She thought of small town that spread into countryside, crown of the limestone roads, wide enough for two but driven, two-track paths, down centerlines for when one drove, road was mostly one’s alone.
Lyrics and voice, she thought to the time; her legs and hands as so—slow driving—no fixed place or end to be; and though time and place were years removed, memory and sense and live-again restored in the dazzle-light, song’s voice and sing all coming of a dream.
She dreamed it in the present, same town, new time, little changed of countryside and place.
Her feet on the dash, bare feet and white-painted toes, bright in the yellow sun and glowed, still, even after compete of its fall and set, absorbing something of moon and stars.
She thought of quiet places: tallgrass of open pastures, stands of woods and trees; evening shade, dazzle and awe of light-fall through the trees; loving him in all, spirit and body of present but vigor of youth: energy and belief, still, of a never-ending; love’s make, spirited, in ideal. She dreamed him in the dazzle then, in bed of brome, deep gold of heads in crown of her fairer hair, waved and spread upon the bed. She thought him in the hide of trees, light shift in gentle wind, boughs and leaves and canopy above, waved in soft of sky’s life-breath; flutter chill in summer warmth, awe and dazzle of love’s make and keeping hold; light and glow of their bodies and eyes in ideal of their never-ending and how, believing, they became.
She dreamt them in early-spring way, way of her world right then. Hand and hand into open hide, fast and furtive of their fall; race of their kiss that slowed into steady, same of work and hold of hands; strip of her jeans, unbutton of long-sleeve flannel, sleeves rolled from wrists to forearm place, draw and rise of her shirt beneath, close and fitting to her form; grasp of his hands to her bared and freed, fold of her body under his, knees framing of her chest, calves to his; awe and dazzle of yellow light in sky-fall sign.
Awe and dazzle, love-pang then, she felt him in the sign.