Journey Peeping through a knothole in a pine fence, a wind-worn cheek pressed to splintered wood. Craning to watch a small girl in a second hand green t-shirt and blue jeans, scuffing rubber-capped tennis shoes toward the dairy barn. She's dragging a play-train; three cardboard boxes, strung together with dirty twine, stuffed animal passengers in each one. Her voice carries; she's talking to an old border collie in a manner so familiar that my chest aches, closer than kin. Crooked bangs, cut too short. The girl pauses when the middle cardboard box catches on a weed and the gabardine seal goes tail up. She gives the twine a sharp tug to right the box and the train rolls on. So far to go, little one.