along the silvered wood of an old split-rail fence
blackberry bushes proliferated yearly
overtaking neighbors to the left and the right
quail and cottontail rabbits were at home here
where thorns and thicket protected from intruders
and provided shelter from prying eyes
feed was in abundance; plump, ripened berries
falling to the ground amid insects and vegetation
sustenance for the denizens of wood and field

as a young lad I knew this place intimately
it was a dreamy time, a time in half-step
the world had yet to awaken and begin its spin
into the oblivion of unbridled growth

to dwell upon the demise of a better time
upon the urbanization and blacktopping of America
is an act of futility, bringing unwelcome tears

the world shall go forward without me one day
the split-rail fence and its inhabitants have gone
soon none shall remain to know that we ever existed