The old house on five acres
a few miles from town
it's been a year since we packed up and left
and look - the blackberries I'd hacked
and dug up by the roots
are back in force
as if they mean to overrun
the whole damn place
some trees have died
but most have made it through
the pond is dry
but given that it's August
that's no surprise
what is surprising are the quinces
I planted ten years back along the drive
a week of watering and already
they're not just looking fresh
they're blossoming!

It's been quiet all day long
but now as dusk falls
the piping of the tree frogs and the shrill
cacophony of crickets blending with
the voices of a thousand other
small musicians fill the dark
until it's hard to think

Too late now to move back
our house in town
with its third acre yard
is all that we can manage
but this place with the running creek
the pond, the ponderosas
the old oaks
the thirty years of plantings
and of memories
no little thing to let it go
no little thing