On Interstate 35 north
of Guthrie, driving through
evening shadows I pass
a rusting, stale green Chevy
bouncing along on bald tires
with a great antlered deer
tied across the tattered roof.

I see a good Oklahoma boy
driving grateful, his eyes locked
straight ahead toward home
where his bride and kids await
his arrival with meat for winter,
stories to tell, hope for better
days ahead strapped tight
to the wildness in our souls.