Manitchewan, Saskbertoba

Rust coloured trains
Snake alongside 
The Trans-Canada Highway
Through fields of summer
Or flat lands of snow
Past slow-moving tractors
And elevators
That go nowhere at all

Between static 
On the car radio,
The twang of country music
Crops up,
Heat billows in
Past the bug-splattered screen,
The scent of a disturbed skunk
In the distance

The living sky flashes
With echoes from our genesis,
The boom and crackle
Of God's voice in our receptors

There is wildness here
In the land of cattle and combines
Where the wind whips,
Corrals into tornadoes
That reap destruction,
Tips cows on a whim
But the people are friendly -
They'd give you the plaid 
Off their brown, leathery backs