Driving north this May
an early summer and the windows are closed
as the heat presses against skin
and our eyes squint.
Green farmlands with waiting tractors,
fields holding grazing cows,
red barns and white houses,
silos scattered across the horizon.
What is this life outside the window
from another time long gone
except memories anchored in places
my feet have not walked upon?
Becoming tired from the heat
yet restless from the nostalgia
I take your hand and am thankful for now
while searching for my past.
