Outside My Door

In 2006, I went on the road with my husband. This is what I saw outside my door one September day:

Diesel motors thrum. Idling trucks remind me of a rumbling train. The September sun radiates off the pavement. Hungry drivers fuel first and then eat lunch on the run. Some walk their dogs, their full time companions, on the strip of green alongside the busy highway. Some wait, not so patiently, for dispatch to send the details for the next load. In the middle of the grassy strip I see a granite boulder and a few green shrubs surrounded by weathered mulch. I watch the clock tick the minutes away. Across the street, tree leaves flutter only slightly in the still Wyoming air.