Iron Mountain ski jump

Iron Mountain ski jump

Friday, February 1, 2019


It seems now that I never belonged
in high-top lace-up shoes on dirt
roads beside dusty sumac leaves
and tall, bristling blackberry canes
even as I walk those same roads
in the sepia images of memory

I have walked so many streets of style
and poise, in garments flowing with the honors
of the tall and sun-lit towers
pennants flying with the colors
of the wars of minds and bowels
walked with steady gaze and steady gait

Why now these same dirt roads of youth
that took me toward the small town lights
and small town smells and small town hopes
the dusty panes and lusty pangs of small town truth?

Is this where I belonged all along
this place of non-belonging?

John Robert McFarland

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