Sitting under the elm that still stands on what was a show place farm.
I watch the traffic race past, am I the only one who fears future's harm?
This piece of fertile ground lays hollow, a pasture laid to rest.
The farmhouse already gone, nothing lives here, nothing comes to nest.
Last week I watched a squirrel forage for food, now it rests permanently on the road.
Go ahead run over it one more time. No one stops to move it off the road, no one could be so bold.
The progress is spreading from across the road, a gas station and car wash have sprouted up.
Black pavement is worth more than land that grows, we cannot stop progress we'll go belly-up.
The farmhouse next door is vacant and waiting to be sold.
I am not sure I want to see the rest of this progress unfold.
~C.Fern Cook~
~C.Fern Cook~
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ReplyDeleteEven though I wrote this several years ago, it is still my favorite.
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