August in Ohio

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August in Ohio

Deafened by cicadas,
I spend my summer
in the vibrant woods
south of Lytle Creek.

The train tracks beckon
from the other side.
There’s a penny in my pocket
that needs to be smeared
across the iron.

After staying out past twilight,
I lie in bed, windows open,
hoping to hear the steam whistle,

like the howl of a wolf
alone in the night.

 

(Another poem which was started during the Germination Workshop two weeks ago whose prompt I reprised this morning.)

 

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6 Responses to August in Ohio

  1. JeanMarie says:

    beautiful metaphor!

  2. Lisa Tomey says:

    I can hear it. Reminds me of my younger life.

  3. writenaked says:

    There is so much I love about this! What stands out the most is the ‘o’ repetition in open, hoping, howl, alone. Makes it feel like the poem is moaning/howling too!

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