Guest post by Frederick Manfred Simon.
August 15, 2017
“In the sweat of thy face shalt thou
eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou
taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” Genesis
3:19
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On a still warmed sunsetting August day, suspended in the melted margarine sky sediment stirred up by combines harvesting wheat turns to ever so slightly drifting dust cloaking a westbound Eastern Washington Gateway Scoot Train taking the rise just west of Hite where, diesels grumbling, the head-end bids good evening to the “Three Sisters,” then two long, one short, one long for Stroup Road. The Sisters? Three out-of-place trees. In the middle of nowhere but wheatland: as far as the eye can reach. And those in-tow 4750 CH’s? They’ll find their way to Reardan – the next station – and “spots” on down the line where they’ll fill with the very harvest collected by sweat-faced men and their colossal combines.
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On a still warmed sunsetting August day, suspended in the melted margarine sky sediment stirred up by combines harvesting wheat turns to ever so slightly drifting dust cloaking a westbound Eastern Washington Gateway Scoot Train taking the rise just west of Hite where, diesels grumbling, the head-end bids good evening to the “Three Sisters,” then two long, one short, one long for Stroup Road. The Sisters? Three out-of-place trees. In the middle of nowhere but wheatland: as far as the eye can reach. And those in-tow 4750 CH’s? They’ll find their way to Reardan – the next station – and “spots” on down the line where they’ll fill with the very harvest collected by sweat-faced men and their colossal combines.
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