Something brought back memories
Down large mudholes
Long strands of green
Ducks wobbling their feet on muck
Freedom is where there are no rails
And in shirts of orange, blue, and brown
They fill out the vast horizon
Where silence clips sounds
I watch tires make their marks
Leaving imprints on dirt
Where many names should have been called
For whom freedom's enfolding
I came out thinking
Is there freedom in them?
Who toil for a new shirt
a bar of soap, a milk powder pack
To induce sleep down a hammock?
I came out asking again
What is freedom
More than a softer bed,
A hot meal at day's end
and a loved-one looking from beyond?
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