I stood in the sun at 8:00am at the edge of a field feeling 

the warmth of the sun letting the quiet seep in. Heard the hiss

off rubber on blacktop out of sight approaching from somewhere

in the next town, an engine struggling on an incline, changing

gears, throaty. Birds circle, rising on thermal currents, surfing

the morning breeze. Stooping to photograph a discarded Redbull

can I find stuff low to the ground thrown out of passing cars.

Plastic cigarette wrappers covered in dew, chocolate wrappers 

overgrown with grass, juice cartons compressed into the mud 

looking like tiny trapdoors into other worlds. 

 

Blow away the dust with the Hedvig Mollestad Trio at volume.

 

(K)