The Load

A red semi, rattling past the glass,

carrying trees, a rough-cut mass.

The smell of fresh pine, quick and strong,

then gone, where it belonged.

That tire, big as a man, mud-flapped and grim,

splashing water from the road's dark rim.

Remembered standing by the highway then,

a little kid, watching grown men

drive these monsters, loud and fast.

Felt small, like something built to never last.

Just a truck, but for a moment, the world shrank,

and I was back, beside that concrete bank.