A Tampa sunset on the hood of a red jeep

Smaller it goes, the rearview mirror and
the sun, half-hidden, and land outstretched.
A working, gibbous sleeve of light
sharp against the mirror.
And several white cows grazing.

Setting, and descending. He tells me of the
farm that him and Janet visited as children.
Warm sun, setting on my legs. My father
swerving into an exit. Lights dimming against the hood.
Along the glass, flat-tree horizons bracing against
the windflow.