.....by Rosemary Bowery

I went back to my mountain home, where childhood memories stay. I moved away many years ago, though it seems 'twas yesterday. Light of heart I wandered there, scenes vivid in my mind. I found that thieves had stolen my treasures I had left behind. Progress stole the little brook that bubbled up so pure and cold; the meadowlark, her autumn song, and wheat fields turning gold. I couldn't find the swimming pond built with stones and clay, secreted in the pussywillows, Time stole it all away. No sign of sweet, sweet Bossy grazing in the field. To the loggers from the paper mill: "Take your chain saws back to hell!" Where are the bothersome rocks where I used to stump my toes, the little house and picket fence along side a dusty road? Two crafty knaves come slinking to steal memories, yours and mine. "Oh, to see them on the gallows!" 'Tis Progress and Father Time.

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