My Summer on Raspberry Hill
In 1944 I was too young
to go to war.
Coal-fired locomotives,
like smoke-belching dragons,
dragged draftees away
to boot camps, then to be
swallowed up by battlefields.
Trainloads of young men
passed Raspberry Hill.
At each whistle blow
we stopped picking berries
from laden bushes and rushed
to the overpass, leaned
over the railing,
waiting
for the dragon’s smoke
and vapor to carry us
to his fearful
lair among the clouds.
We heard the whooshing
of wings. Not the dragon,
but an army scout plane hard-landed
on the railroad tracks.
Uninjured, the pilot grinned goofily
and waved:
“Hey, kids! Did ya see him?”
“Who?”
“The Jap with a blister on his ass . . . .”
But there were no Japanese soldiers;
that fly-boy must’ve been flying
upside down far too long.
Our Mexican farmhand
scampered down the embankment,
ran along the tracks waving his bandana
to warn the approaching dragon.
The monster screeched,
stopped . . . just in time.
From above we stared
at those gaunt faces below
peering through windows:
enemy prisoners,
heading for POW camp.
Moments later, the dragon snorted,
puffed and screamed.
We rushed to the other bridge railing
for one more look
at those foreign soldiers.
“Crummy Nazies,” someone said,
but the rest was swallowed up
by the shrieking dragon
as he turned around the bend
and then out of sight.
We picked more berries
to fill our buckets.
Agnes placed one between her lips,
and I stole the succulent fruit
with mine. On Raspberry Hill.
This poem is delightful. The child exposed to the POWs
in transit on the imagined dragon blowing fumes of smoke. A great juxaposion between reality and fantasy until the refrain Crummy Nazis. Picking the berries seemed to recall a bucolic ideal but taking the berries from Agnes lips suggests burgeoning sensuality which is very touching
You're a great story-teller here, Ali. I love the drama and surprises knit neatly into it.
I came along a bit too late to see any enemy soldiers in trains in Tacoma, WA... but there may have been some there, since Ft. Lewis is there within my home Pierce County, where Tacoma is the County Seat and Mt Rainier sits on the Throne. I've spoken with many soldiers who disembarked from Ft. Lewis to overseas in WWII and Viet Nam who had been at Ft Lewis for some time and hadn't seen the mountain, when one day the clouds lifted from around it, and shocked them. It took up the whole sky. That happens there a lot. On a clear day, Mt. Rainier can simply catch you aghast!
National Park Service Photo
I do recall the puffing locomotives myself, having walked the tracks just about a half mile up the hill from my boyhood home, picking up a spilled coal here and there for our wood stove. The trains regularly hauled 100 lumber cars filled to the top with giant Douglas fir logs heading for the mills. The tracks ran right alongside our Boys Club, where I worked from age 12-17 before college. I also recall the trick of putting a penny or nickel on the tracks, allowing the train to totally flatten and expand them! We loved that as kids... when we could afford it!
Well, I have digressed a bit. Perhaps showing my age, huh?
The "Crummy Nazis" is a clever kids'-eye-view twist.
deLighting in your sharing, Daniel
This is wonderful, Ali! You are certainly a great story teller.
I love the dragon like descriptions:
Coal-fired locomotives,
like smoke-belching dragons,
waiting
for the dragon’s smoke
and vapor to carry us
to his fearful
lair among the clouds.
Moments later, the dragon snorted,
puffed and screamed.
I remember steam trains so well. My grandparents had quite a long garden and the railway line used to run just past the end. I used to love to see a train come by - smoke belching and always waved at the driver who waved back. Happy memories!
I can't see anything I would change here, I just enjoyed every line.
Look forward to your next.
Eira
Powered by Invision Power Board (http://www.invisionboard.com)
© Invision Power Services (http://www.invisionpower.com)