THE TANNERY IN MILTON MILLS NH

You lean in on yourself, like a dilapidated

And aged Yankee dowager, dirty white,                  

Grey and black, windows, panes

Violated, letting in all the elements can carry.

You stand in the middle of the village

And speak of better times, when prosperity

Was the watchword, and people were able to find

Work, live and grow, love and worship.

No longer…as you crumble all that remain

Are pensioners, antique dealers, a few poor,

And some dreamers, all trying to scrape a

Desperate life from an unforgiving New England hollow.