Premonition of history (fire/decay)

You will love me
as you tear down my cities
built over centuries
of aged vine
and cattle driven passages.
Of wet strangers and wagons,
dustfields and haybales,
The distant rumble of a thunderstorm
and a cool breeze
blowin' wild 'neath
an ever widening sky,
dissolving in the brightness
of the evening sun
like a westward diving fireball
skittering over a gasoline lake.