In the Same Place. N. Thomas Johnson-Medland

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      only the wind

      dancing

      with the

      leaves and tiny

      branches

      of the trees.

      I can hear

      an underlying

      melody cascading

      up and out of

      the Delaware

      as it courses

      with power through

      the red shale Gap.

      It is from this place,

      it is in that melody

      I hear the subtle

      variations that

      my heart has learned

      to long for.

      A melody that sings

      to me of beehives

      and of doves;

      of loamy

      woodland trails

      and knolls.

      It is here I have

      learned to sing of

      what a man is when

      there is no movement out

      and away from the center.

      Sloping Appalachians,

      rising up among the

      foothills of my youth;

      you have consumed me

      and left me

      mesmerized

      by the shrill trill

      of your insects

      and birds,

      of your tree frogs

      and raccoons.

      I am lost

      in a cacophony

      that has destroyed

      the mayhem of

      civilized existence.

      It is gone.

      Place

      Place is the

      kind of thing

      that gets under

      the nails, behind

      the ears, and

      between the toes.

      It follows you

      everywhere—

      lending just a

      hint of displacement

      and yearning toward

      the sun of home—

      a flower turning

      to the solar path;

      all day long.

      You can almost

      hear it in every

      sound; just enough

      to know that this

      new space is not

      “IT.”

      Dorothy took

      it with her and

      used “IT” as a beacon

      to escape the wonders

      of Oz.

      Moses had “IT”

      just behind his eyes

      so he could know the

      place he had only

      dreamed of.

      Indians and

      dinosaurs longed

      for “IT” before they

      died and would

      walk an aimless

      outward journey

      by feeling an

      inner trek to the

      place that was

      the origin of their

      very own self.

      Columbus

      set out to

      find the

      place of his

      discovery

      hoping it would

      mirror the “IT”

      of what he

      knew—

      amplified with

      untold riches.

      You get older

      and the longing

      for the remnants

      of place grows

      deeper, richer, and

      stronger with each

      passing moist

      breath of

      time apart.

      The skin can

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