I remember yesterplace

So golden lies the meadow now where bitter weeds have spread,
Where years ago the clover turned the rolling meadow red.

But still the old magnolia in the evening shades the house
And in springtime mornings you can hear the drumming grouse.

The flowers long are gone beside the house, but on the hill
In the early spring beneath the weeds there blooms a daffodil.

Upon the hill the apple tree is shrouded with a vine
So now instead of apples you can harvest muscadine.

And down beside the pond remains the dying, ancient mill
Where rotting for a century now, the water wheel is still.

And no once comes to visit but the beaver and the rat
And every fall a hunter in fluorescent vest and hat.

But I remember yesterday and in my memory trace
All the beauty of the years I lived in yesterplace.