Your convoy set out from the truck stop
fashionably later than you’d planned
and there was excitement in your eyes
as we came together across
an asphalt ocean still oozing morning mist
after a rain that came and went.
I imagine the storm clouds 
headed west with you, bouncing along
behind the u-haul and that car 
you didn’t want to buy brand new.
From here on the homestead I wonder 
how you’ll find all the flat land 
and if the prairie will please you
the way the stories do, 
oh Pikeville pioneer.