Journey Home

For Nelle Morton

snow covered woods,
move seamlessly past my window
as the whistle blows,
warning those driving through fields
of unharvested corn we are coming,

bringing memories of the
train that killed Ervin and Ronnie and ...
in the farmlands of my youth,

like these farmlands, yet different,
less treed, further south,  painted red barns,
and cows in fields,    

unmarked crossings less frequent now,
from daughter to daughter I
travel, a spa day of pleasure, conversation...

wishing their were more
to complete the circuit of  grandchild's
delight       running into my arms,
kicking snow banks, and ice pellets
on the way.

gkn Novemeber 2018