Tough Stories

I see her again, a cardinal in the snow. Wild black hair is tufted up  beneath her hard hat. Layers of flannel and Carhart swathe her against the cold. Steel-toed jack boots stir dust and dance across gulches of debris. Gloved hands tear down and best a pounding jack hammer. Dark eyes glint behind shades even as her smile sparkles me. Will her eyes see through me or invite me in? Does she have nails inside those gloves to...

I see her through the dust of diggersworking harder than any man around.Her dreams, hopes and longingspower sun-bronzed arms and thick-gloved hands.She reeks of femininity,but would never cop to that in a bar.Her scent cuts through diesel fumeseven as she swabs sweat with her Tee.She is gorgeous and I want herin her sunglasses, mud bootsand cascading black hairtucked up under her hard hat.I want her that way to startand t...