For Lucy, who called them "ghost houses."
Someone was always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses wait like old wives
along this road; they are everywhere,
abandoned, leaning, turning gray.
Someone always traded
the lonely beauty
of hemlock and stony lakeshore
for survival, packed up his life
and drove off to the city.
In the yards the apple trees
keep hanging on, but the fruit
grows smaller year by year.
When we come this way again
the trees will have gone wild,
the houses collapsed, not even worth
the human act of breaking in.
Fields will have taken over.
What we will recognize
is the wind, the same fierce wind,
which has no history.
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Comments about this poem (Scenic Route by Lisel Mueller )
- Long before my birth (cavatina), Gert Strydom
- Let Me Be Her<3, Nautica Moxley
- Absalom, Gert Strydom
- Freedom Is Calling, Tony Adah
- God and Guru, gajanan mishra
- Left Naked And Exposed, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Birth day, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- TWILIGHT, Meggie Gultiano
- Morning prayers., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Favorite Quote, Nautica Moxley
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