Faded Reconnaissance Poem by Cole Severns

He appeared from the rolling hills of the countryside.
Among the maples, cedars, cottonwoods.
The deep thuds of pumping oil wells.

His days of exploration, scaling barbed-wire fences, throwing two-seamers.
Afraid to miss out.
Fascinated.
Infatuated.
Immersed.

Never sheltered, the son of a traveler, the son of a blue-collar splicer.
Learned, open-minded, experimenting with experience.
Met it all head-on.

Always there.
Saturday nights near the bonfire.
Cheap beer on ice.
Good friends.

His inconspicuous departure.
Forgotten reasoning.
To find something, maybe?

What did he seek?
Was he secure?
Was he satisfied?
Was he bored?
Unknown motives.

Still shows up occasionally.
Waves hello, then he's gone.
Almost a stranger now.

Still has that look.
Curious.
Stoic.
I'll never forget his face.