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Land Lost by Jed Feffer I want to talk about the sloping land tree shaded by oaks, that like a woman’s shoulder ran and sloped with walkways, interspersed by trunks, whose umbrella’d branches showered down. I do this for memories’ sake; For soon the red clay flattened and concrete foundation of our church will be all that our memory will have of this piece of land. It had a sway to it; the hill held fast by roots unknown to us save that they kept the land intact. The trunks rose in undulating forms that overreached our grasp, but that our hands had place to lay themselves against, as we leaned to talk, or gaze about the vast shadows cast by spreading branches. The leaves fell on us in forms that spread to pin like tips and mapped a clean course for sap and travelling water to run, matting the dampening earth to soften the tread our feet took. In spring their buds danced tenderly; In summer the cool flat leaves blew green above our heat. Do not then forget the way the land lay before the cuts of plow, dozer, pick, and spade changed its flow. For it is not simply sentiment that causes me to record this loss, but the land that calls us to itself, and in our fondness for it we recall it as a friend to gladly gather in. The author, a resident of the watershed, wrote this poem following the loss of a treasured grove of trees in the vicinity of Valleybrook Drive. |