there and back again,” Madeline Bruessow

there and back again

i grew up surrounded by cornfields lush stalks in summer, crepe-paper husks in winter.

in the bay i was an island. trees leered above me. snow clouds were claustrophobia. corn stalks a wall.

i thought a yard is never big enough. the snow always too thick. ice too slippery.

dare me: what is beyond that line of trees, beneath those waves, past the frost-hardened roots.

but after a long trek home, nothing smells quite as sweet as a golden field of Michigan maize on a firefly-lit evening.