Young America

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^{_{I am not sure if cartographic history will unveil Young America. It is part of Barton, Wisconsin}}

The soliloquy of a late-night train whistle in the distance Calls out to me like past voices, and the insistence Of God’s voice is echoed in Pastor David's sermon (Growth? the Holy Spirit will determine) As if God were speaking directly to me, germane To the haunting of my past, it has been whispering of late Getting me to focus and to contemplate about The people I’ve wronged and the sin-filled reveries shout Out things once hid (and forgotten) brought into the light And on these undulating seas that I traverse late at night I am brought back again to the whistle of the train As it fades into the distance in refrain (I have often crossed the trestle (in Young America) with these thoughts I wrestle Give me peace dear Lord As I walk on t'ward, Amen)

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