Traveling Home Again Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Jumping over those hills feels like a joy
Even though grandmother is gone and I am no longer
A little boy- Going through those woods
Like a river in its cradle, smelling the burning sugar
Cane in the sky’s ladle
While the apple trees are making parsimonious
Music again, and the rattlesnake is curling underneath
Her freckled shoulders again:
Soon she will be taken home to him, singing her song
Like rains upon stone, back into a story I can
Never enter in- too soon will she be traveling home again.