Somewhere in Southern Indiana

Somewhere in Southern Indiana
a basketball floats on a rain puddle
at the bottom of a rusty wheelbarrow.

High grass swallows it up on a long
fence line separating house from
farm fields rolling into the distance.

Patches of forest can be seen just
past the fields where deer roam and
small mammals live out short lives.

These are the scenes that formed
my childhood and put the firm stamp
of melancholy on my personhood.

But also provided a buffer from
things that can wither the soul and
may compromise the man to be.


***