Beyond the Black Fence

Beyond the Black Fence By Sy Roth The land lay fallow Beyond the black fence. Growth once dressed in a white blanket of hoar in winter landscapes Lush in summer months Deer speckled backdrop Munched all day behind a scrim of lush camouflage And black birds rested on the scrub Coupled with the land and each other A fornucopia of perpetuation. But like time It marched in to war on its own turf-- The cranes, yellow tractor-footed creatures Tore at the soil and formed mountains of dirt That wild (plants?) draped over And the long-necked (?) concrete spreaders Filled the gaping foundations with its gray slush And the deer fled And the black birds had resting places on the open rooftops And the last trees crumbled to the diesel monsters Where future houses will stack itself with the firewood Of septuagenarians and those who aspire to end that race. Incessant noise of change A cock-a-doodle-doo alarm On the other side of the black fence My side where I find comfort in a book And a drink to whet my appetite And conjure up the images of the verdant green that once was And the hoary land that once was my winter vista