It Can Wait

I spot my quarry and thumb the accelerator. My old, dinky yet reliable 4-wheeler shoots across the dormant hay meadow, bouncing over frozen cow pies and shallow irrigation ditches. The cattle have already cleaned up all the hay dropped off the truck earlier this morning. With full bellies, some lay scattered in the field while others head to the river to drink. Low hanging branches beside the river are polished silky smooth from years serving as back scratchers. 

Noticing my approach, my target heads out. Although at full throttle, I press my thumb harder hoping to somehow get the 4-wheeler to go faster. Slowly, I get closer and closer.