I am tossed

I am tossed

A boy thrown high

Birthday bumps in a schoolyard

Jumping onto haywains

A blizzard of fine chaff

The prickle of short sharp

Corn stems

Cutting through

Holes in old soles

The sun blinking through

Clouds of grain

I can see a rainbow

Jolted by the elbow

Falling asleep on a slow train

Travelling north

Going home

Was always an arduous journey

Landscaped memories

Picture me this

On a clear day

Hills were always

At the edge of the known world

The steel tracks

Of a railway line

Hummed with anticipation

Between morning and evening

Counting wagons

Full of coal

Jumping across the line

How close could we go

Slow was their

Daily trundle

We could talk to the fireman

Jump on the footplate

Pretend we were bandits

Comancheros

The James Gang

Escaping prisoners of war

Not quite knowing

What we saw

The line was a boundary

I have crossed before

And will do so again

Going back now

Is a grave concern

A churn of old dreams

Forgotten reminders

Wherefores and whys

Old home ties

Get more painful

With every

Bless-ed cut.