Midwest River Town

The old river town where I grew up its main street lined with shops and worn brick buildings the smell of diesel fuel and freshly cut grass mingling in the air as the sun sets over the water

I think of the men who work the riverboats their calloused hands and weary eyes the way they move with a slow deliberate pace as if the weight of the world rests on their shoulders

The town’s a mixture of old and new where industrial parks meet cornfields and woods the sound of trains and factories humming alongside the songs of birds and rustling leaves