A response to the most recent writing prompt at Northography. http://www.northography.com/responses.php?stimulus_id=289
I returned to the fields
of the childhood I left behind.
Rows upon rows of corn
stretching forever and
above our heads as we
ran looking behind, ahead
all around; each stalk that moved
could mean we were tagged, and
our turn to chase each echo of laughter
and each bark of the dog.