it seems
I have traveled
this way before
long river banks
'tween encroaching hills
vine laid
and facing south
the train
trails
not unlike a snail
reluctantly
reaching my end
a village
in the midst of nowhere

it is quiet
too quiet
you could almost hear
the clash of heels
on ancient flags
harsh shouts
and heavy reproaches
for those
that roundly
fit not
the square holes
required

a dog adopts me

a shy mongrel
keeping distance
following hope

I welcome
passers-bye
heads down
light blind
seeking shelter
from strangers
such as me

I sit upon
a welcome bridge
remade
since I was here last

the dog sits too

upon the hills
surrounding me
new crops
assault the calm
past reminiscence
of hay and sugar beet
the shouts
and jokes
and cuddles
of harvest time

I wonder
should I have come
to try
to reconcile myself
to death
for one last time

the dog licks my hand

perhaps I should