NR Digital


by Lawrence Dugan


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.

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