To An Old Truck
by Michael Escoubas

With dew
still fresh I notice you
derelict
among tall grasses
gone to seed
and cattails swaying
in the breeze—
youíve felt
winterís wind
youíve felt
snow clouds unleash flakes
big as dimes—
youíve seen spring, and
harvest time—
field mice now make their home
where I once sat
riding with Dad in the pasture—
it is as if you have
a human heart, or
is it my heart
living in mysteries and doubts
seeing similarities
in you
revealed in me?
 


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