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


Through fields again.