Razed, dilipated, erased, GONE–
The old home place, grandpa’s–SILENT.

Hungering for a trace of him
Who taught me to hoe, tell stories
En sync to the rhythm of the hoe stickes, 
Only a deep, empty ache smothered my heart.

There She stood!

Tall, angler in the brilliant summer sun
Drooping with fresh pears to mellow
In autumn’s coolness–
.
She remembered–invited me to come
Taste of her coarse grainy fruit much like
Pa who planted her over a hundered years ago.