THE GREEN SWARD

That green sward I used to walk above

A baseball-diamond Mother remembered

Near Penn, under a bridge, a field always

Surprising her when she happened to recall

It, a petal on a branch of memory.

I am one of those convinced a store

Of past locations easily visited

Is good, as is the temptation to recall

Over and over the green field that once

Was seen someplace, using an archaic

Word to describe it, a usage fading

In your life-time; that looking down again

On a green sward in April or up at Venus,

The titaness glowing over the airport

Southwest of the city, will always trump

The rival false solutions that set

The white-collar world on fire. Out at Penn

South Street Bridge still covers the river fields

And the discus-circle can be glimpsed

Even from the Metroliner, a blur.