When the farmhouse and outbuildings were Razed several years ago I was sad. Sheep had grazed in the field beside the Barn, and old trees shaded the beautiful Sprawling house that stood on the Crossroads. I savored the pastoral setting whenever I drove by knowing it couldn't last. The once secluded spot had become An urban one, and after the owner died The structures were torn down. New construction hasn't yet begun, and Many of the faithful trees still stand tall in The disheveled abandoned lot. And along the edge of the yard bordering The busy road are daffodils displaying their Yellow glory to the motorists. I pulled into the deserted drive today and Parked my car, hoping I wouldn't be Arrested for trespassing. I stepped cautiously over the twigs and Overgrown weeds to reach the bright Floral clusters bending in the breeze. I gathered a bouquet, brought the Blooms home and arranged them in a Vase on my piano. The bucolic scene no longer exists, Just in my memory. The sheep are gone. The buildings are gone. The family who once lived in the white House on the corner is gone. But the bulbs that the farmer's wife once Planted in the fall still spring up each Spring in all their splendor. And I suspect she wouldn't have minded That I stopped to pick a few of them today. I believe she would be pleased that After all these years her lovely tenacious Daffodils are still bringing delight. |
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Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
December 2020
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