Old Red Tractor
In the predawn darkness ether snorts into the engine's nostrils,
Slow grind of starter as tractor belches.
Coldness resisting the desire to start,
Yet ether is a powerful drug for diesel.
Finally spark catches and rumble starts,
Cold hydraulics whine as cold blood shoots through the system.
As move the whine decreases,
Lowering the blade to move snow.
Driveway covered in seven inches,
Giving way to the red tractor's 60 horses.
Pushing piles of snow out of the way,
Brisk air brushes face, no cab to numb winter.
About the Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.
Image is of our 40 year old International tractor.
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