A blue bike leans against the iron railing. 
It is bright summertime in Ukraine 
and the railroad lady tends a garden full  
to blooming with cucumbers, beetroot, squash 
she bends over in a frock like livery. 
Her blue buttoned uniform blossoms from beneath 
the frock, the cuffs kissed with splashes 
of dirt kicked up from the motley flower pots. 
She hears a distant whine— 
she unties the bow and drapes it 
on the trellis, taking a yellow 
flag from her unbuttoned pocket. 

O, how little the people attend 
but all is well on the tracks ahead. 

1 Comment on “Oksana

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