The Country of My Youth

It’s quiet,
and I can hear
strange
but familiar sounds;
night creatures,
like the ones in the bush
of the country of my youth.
Not the country with a flag,
or a national anthem,
but the country with no streetlights.
The country with no taxis,
the country with no road signs.
The country with only one school,
or maybe it has none at all.
The country where everyone knows everyone, and almost
everyone is related.
It’s quiet,
and I can hear
strange
but familiar sounds,
like the ones in the bush
of the country
of my youth.

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