I used to
Come home from school,
Drop my books and run
Through fields and woods.
Boundaries big
As the horizon.
The horizon hefted by hills—
Hills I took in stride,
Bare feet fairly flying,
And the wind rushed with me…
Now my feet have traveled far
From those hills.
Here the hills mask the horizon—
Hide horizon behind buildings stacked tight and high
Can confines suffocate?
With bated breath
I’ll soon come home from school
Dropmybooksandrun
Through fields again.