A Matter of Taste
by Shirley Hodge Kacmarik
Tall stalks of corn bend in the wind
white wispy clouds drift overhead
bees sing their songs in fields of green clover
robins tend nests in the maple tree's cover.
Off in the distance a train whistle blows
and the scent of the loam arrives at the nose
the creak of the windmill spinning above
answers the call of the snowy white dove.
In the neat little garden the vegetables sprout
while the strawberry patch sends long suckers out
the apple tree bends with the heft of its fruit
and the new planted roses are just taking root.
These things I remember from days long ago
before they paved over the green land below
there are slick, shiny stores where things used to grow
and cars by the thousands all in a row.
But it seems to me as I view this new vision
that we've lost something grand in the latest transition
instead of the beauty of Mother Earth's bosom
we're stuck with a cancer from man's absurd wisdom.
© 2003 Shirley Hodge Kacmarik