on the back side of our property was a fence row,
and on the other side of that row was a railroad track;
berries grew on the fence and my Grandmother would
drag us back there to help her pluck those precious fruits
each season;
sometimes we would climb the fence and walk the rails –
picking u p spikes for our collection,
sometime my Grandmother,
always keen,
would know that danger loomed and scurry us
back over the fence,
then minutes later a train would clunk over the track
and toot a lonely toot for dirty children waving
on the fence line.

Michellia D. Wilson 8/14/2016