ukraine

there is an old soviet train

running through communities

of communist orchards

and the family planters

remain towns away

bussing each day

to plough and tow

the potato

the seed

and today a man

who remembers more

than the beatles’ song

back in the ussr

turns to us

the ukrainian

the two americans

and hands

us each an apple

from the garden

where he plucked three

bags this afternoon

and he compliments our smiles

our laughter

the look of better days

under wrinkled eyes

old russian tongue

©Julie Bolitho. “ukraine,” Poem. Ukraine and Other Poems. Leaf Books Press: 2007, pgs. 13 and 17.

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© Julie Bolitho 2018