Springtime In Salem
Flying on an easterly wind
Over Atlantic waters, ever thinned
A village comes back into view
Eerily draped in a season anew
Hanging now with purple wisteria
Not accusations, not hysteria,
Is old Salem town, lush and green
Beyond, a cemetery lies, a reverent scene
Dark houses, by cherry blossoms framed
Brighten a place once so shamed,
By masking her greatest tragedy
With pink floral beauty, craftily
Quiet streets, an all too familiar pitch
As I wander, her picket fences bewitch,
And up on Gallows Hill, a site so tragic
Finds her peace in springtime magic.
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