In springtime, verdant laurel bushes,

Perfume with delicate rushes….

Of pleasant air—

Wild they grow here—

Acid soil their growth pushes!

Fischer cats here roamed,

Near Big Rock was their home…..


A fierce type

Of wildlife may soon be gone.

Big Rock, with its glacial striations,

Has fascinated generations….

Along Route Sixteen

It can be seen,

But not much of a tourist destination!

Cedar swamp-hued brown water,

flow over mill dams and splatter….

Cedars too small

For much use at all,

These days, what does it matter?

Jonathan Caswell

This entry was posted in Uncategorized on by .

About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest


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