scrub pines give way to open fields;
log cabins, tobacco barns, and
split rail fences guard the
weathered landscape while
bent over crops stand like
tenant farmers who’s bleached
and burnt skins resembles
the worn out soil
that possesses their souls;
past the arid desolation, these
country roads end their journeys
amid a legion of tall pines,
maples and dogwoods that’s faithful
countenance surrounds a
body of water resting quietly in
man-made cavity of forgetfulness;
Tthe lake extends her tributaries
like tiny fingers reaching out,
probing nature’s secret domain;
homes peer out from behind trees
like cat’s eyes curious of new arrivals;
bathers sun alongside turtles, beavers,
and wild ducks who, like other species,
must share their home and solitude;
from dawn to dusk, modern mariners
navigate their dreams through currents of hope
spewing out filth and splendor associated
with a new breed of wealth that
reigns recklessly over their subjects
and a once proud and humble valley.
January 1983
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