And won at auction with its weedy yards
Littered with plastic coffee cups
And years of wind-blown papers and leaves
It took us half a spring to clear
We wanted the work of simpler days
Pump-drawn water carried
To a real fire a life the land
Could barely afford to give us
I wanted to plant apples and peonies
You wanted to finish growing up
Why be here if we didn’t love
The old ways of living
If we didn’t want to touch
The center of our lives
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