Train Trip Ponder

The train is chugging through the open plain.
Sunflowers flash before my eyes,
like sour lollies exploding on my taste buds.

I imagine the smell of green grass and dry hay, remembering the harvest moon and village celebrations. I was too young to be drunk on rice wine; instead, we gorged ourselves on roasted peanuts and bamboo shoots. We didn’t care about the char and bitterness, washing them down with strong green tea until our bellies ached.

As the train journey is anchored by the clouds above, my sense of self is defined by the happy memories of childhood.