Hidden From Time
Beyond those hills lie the mysteries
of a small community hidden from time.
Little has changed in the past fifty years,
if one does not consider the paved road
or the telephone lines, some of the few
remaining party lines in the country --
Yes! If you stand underneath them you
can hear the noisy chattering of gossipers
exchanging notes about their neighbors,
or, arranging interesting tripartite trysts.
Sometimes the sound of a zither plucked,
or an old wringer washer chugging along
[if it’s a Monday morning]; you can hear
a faint whistling of undetermined origin.
Everyone knows everyone else and kin
who have not left for Ohio since the 50s,
while old, uninhabited houses crumbled
into dust, including one where I was born
on a snowy winter’s day in bleak December.
Written August 8, 2022
Copyright © L Milton Hankins | Year Posted 2022
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