Ode to Russia


Stepping off the airplane I’m filled with excitement.

Sounds of a foreign language fill my ears as people pass me by.

The excitement of having one more stamp in my passport and the

Feeling like I have returned to a place familiar to my heart.

Signs I can barely make out, yet still can pronounce

Make me feel like maybe, just maybe I know what I’m reading.

Cars surround me with people escaping the city for a weekend retreat to their dachas.

Six hours pass as I sit in a van, drowsy eyed and tired.

I awaken to a tap on my shoulder as I’m told, “we’re five minutes away.”

In anticipation I sit up to look out my now darkened window sprinkled by raindrops.

A familiar street lined with potholes and crumbled sidewalks.

The Old Street Hotel now in my site.

Kostroma I have returned.

Kostroma firestation


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