Now, as the 18 wheeler bears west its rhythm
Rocks the earth and from her pullman berth, she stares
Into the night which others take their rest. Bridges of
Iron lace a suddenness of trees, a lap of mountain's
Mist all cross her line of sight.

Then a bleak wasted place and a lake below her knees,
Full on her neck she feels the straining at a curve,
Her muscles move with steel, she wakes in every jerk,
She thunders thru hills and curves washed with
The light, beyond the mountain's pass fog deepens
On the pave;

She rushes thru the rain that rattles the double glass
The wheels shakes the road into the bedinstone;
The pistons jerk and shove
She stays up half the night to see the land she loves.