Marilyn Goldsmith

We drove through air perfumed by
Honeysuckle peeking through the fence
Along a farmer’s field
As though it hoped to catch a glimpse
Of who intruded on its nighttime dreams.
Our headlights searched the dark for
Meyerdierck’s, the general store,
Catching in a flash of brilliance
Fresh-killed deer hung up to dry.
Unheralded yet by rooster’s crow,
We passed Brown’s pond for home and bed.
The farmer’s field sprouts houses now
Brown’s pond where George and Nancy learned to skate
Paved over, roosters gone.
Meyerdireck’s, complete with traps,
Penny candy, nails and twine
Removed to Bethpage Village where,
Suffering tourists’ patronizing stares,
It broods on obdurate time.


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