Ancestral Farmstead
I returned to our farmstead last autumn
on the driveway where I kicked marbles
and plucked brambles catching my gaze-
Now overgrown at sixty-two
horse wagons filled the blank spaces
of my remembered landscape...
I walked like a ghost looking for dear home,
but found this lofty edifice
ridiculing, mocking me from its skylight--
The dogwood trees Grandma nurtured
now impetuously ravaged and gnarled,
casting shadows on translucent mirrors--
past her dream of a lush orchard,
that my eyes lingered through a heap
for treasures, hoping to discover
a piece of yesterday's laughter,
among the junk of ancestral, broken wood.
-------------
Emile Pinet's Contest: New Poems Only
4/16/2018
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment