In my youth
This was Greenville--
A place of pastures,
English Black Willows,
Holstines, and
Winter fog.

I remember well
The lonely corner
Station that marked
The narrow lane
To Aunt Valeen's
And the old house.

There were
Orchards too,
On benchland
Below Berdineau Peak--
A peak that glowed
Peach at sunset.

Today I walk
The blackened acres
Of a Wal-Mart
Parking lot--
Crowded and crawling
With Commerce.

Yet looking
High enough,
Looking long enough,
Greenville returns,
If only momentarily
In the Alpen glow.

12/20/2001

Author's Note: On the loss of "Willow Valley"

Posted on 12/20/2001
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes