Smoke From The Chimney* Poem by Adeline Foster

Smoke from the chimney against a gray sky,
Wherever you're going, thither go I.
The heart of a youth will forever repeat
The natural longing of youth's itchy feet.
Smoke from the chimney, what lands you traverse,
Sailing out over all countries of earth.
Smoke from the chimney, I sit with fixed eye
As over the landscape we go moving by.
The wind is the howl of our train as we pass
Cities and mountains and wide prairie grass.
Adventurer's awaiting my daring, I know,
Where life never sleeps like those still drifts of snow.
False day in the city admits of the noise
Of wandering footsteps of lost girls and boys.
Their loud, vivid costumes reveal the bold trace
Of rebellion against all convention and taste.
My senses all tremble, abating the dream
To know of the places these waifs may have been.
I know of the danger, I have heard the tales;
Though daring may grip me, trepidation prevails.
Across the wide prairie I ride with the troops
Of cowboys and Indians I know now are mute,
So I watch for the bluegrass I've heard in a song,
Or trucks on the highways that thunder a long.
Smoke from the chimney how silent you flow;
Caught in your clutch, I don't want to let go.
My weary eyes close on the places I've seen
To continue my quest in the depth of a dream.