Prairie Flyer – VI
By morning, Kansas’ sunflowers were barely peeking through the snow
and a hearty Kansas’ blackbird, bigger than a carrion crow,
was finding it tough to find some food….waddling close by Harley’s goat,
that Harley had let out about 4:30 ‘cause I heard him clear his throat
as he tussled with the stuck door.
“Looks like I’m here a while,” I said to Harley’s back
who nodded and smiled and took up the bacon and put it on a rack
and poured me more coffee…”Glad to have you here, Jake.
How do you want those eggs? I’ve got some biscuits ready to bake..
Has the radio said much about the storm?”
“They say it hit from Utah to the Cumberland Plateau;
a lot of outages and people stranded, as far as they know,”
I told him as we tightened our boots, getting ready to go outside
to gas up the John Deere plow……to push some snow aside,
that is…. after eating our eggs and drinking another cup.
By late afternoon, Harley’s airstrip was done
and Sarah Jane was now ready for the gatling gun
that I would re-mount before leaving for the trip back home
in the morning if it wasn’t windy, I thought, as my comb
stung my head…. sticking in the matted hair.
The shower made me sleepy and I was afraid that if I sat,
the searing heat from the fireplace would see to it…. that….
I would fall asleep too soon and Harley would let me sleep
and his venison stew was smelling good so I got a broom to sweep
and it was then that we heard the first report.
(continued – Prairie Flyer – VII
Prairie Flyer – Part III
Harley turns sharply, downs the towel, grabs his beer
saying ‘Hi’ to the lady in his jovial ‘gear’
and. I, too, have risen….”hi, I’m Jake.” I say
as we grab for her jacket in a dizzying way
and she smiles….illuminating all the room.
Now Harley, being Harley, with his humor, sometimes crude,
in a smile says ‘nice boots’ and I look for a changing mood
but she thanks him graciously and continues to scan the room
and joins me at the counter bar as Harley grabs a broom
and she could hold the thought no more, “Are the beans done yet?”
“Almost, ma’am, maybe a stir or two,” Harley quips,
“Where ya headed?’ he asks, bringing the beer to his lips.
“I’m headed over Ogallala way, up in Keith County,
for one last show before winter….a show for Elga Browney.
Do you know her, Harley?”
“I’ve heard the name,” Harley says, sitting the beer on the bar.
Then leaving for the girls’ room, she says.…”by the way, my name is Star.”
as I remember, now, the star on her scarf, caught against the wing
that almost got away from her…. before the final fling
from the wind…. that returned it to her arms.
(continue Prairie Flyer – Part IV
Prairie Flyer – Part II
Then as I turned toward the counter’s bar,
the pilot started down and I noticed the star
on the scarf that the wind had placed on the wing
and getting it….the pilot was trying everything
but the wind, it seemed, was winning.
Then what I saw was hard to believe
as she stepped from the cockpit and tugged at her sleeve
taking off her cap….her hair falling down….
in long strands of blond, nearly touching the ground….
the white scarf flew wildly to her hands.
Gripped tight by pause, my eyes fixed in fear,
I awaken from my stupor from the feel of cold beer
that’s spilled on my hands as I head for my seat
at the counter in the back of the room…. where the heat
will feel good when she comes through the door.
I look towards where Harley is tending his beans,
stirring them vigorously…. some reaching his jeans….
the stove plates glowing brightly in oranges and red
as the wind wails and whistles at the smell of fresh bread
then it’s gone… the door opens….”Hi, guys.”
(to be continued….Part III)