The path to Al Marah horse farm
began at the end of my street.
Into woods of pine, ash, pin oak,
maple and birch I plunged,
across stepping stones
on the broad Booze Creek,
up the tall grassy hill
on the farm’s backside
and into large, welcoming stables.
Although primarily home to
the owner’s elegant Arabian horses,
the stables leased horse stalls to others,
including my friend Mary’s family.
On days Mary invited me for a ride,
my pace and heart quickened.
Driving by the Al Marah farmland today,
I see large colonial houses dotting the landscape.
Well paved suburban avenues,
adorned with bright streetlights,
have replaced the waving grass
and wooden paddocks of my childhood.
Booze Creek’s natural banks
are hemmed in
by residential tidiness.
“Progress” has wiped clean,
the gentle sounds of
whinnying horses on the hill,
summer insects buzzing,
children splashing across a wild creek.
*palimptest — something reused or altered but still bearing visible traces of its earlier form.
Inspiration for this post: Isolation Journal prompt #144
A Reading Life 
Loving how this slice merges the past with the present. Thank you for teaching me a NEW WORD!!!
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I was intrigued by that Isolation Journal prompt and had to read what you did with it! Nicely done- the suburban build over the woods and fields you used to enjoy with the horses. A very evocative palimpsest.
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I also catch the word with the Isolation Journal prompt and thought about using it this week. I liked how you took us into the past and then brought us back to now. So sad to lose the open land with the horses and wild creek. Thanks for sharing this image with us today.
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Impressive slice! You are becoming a true Mary Oliver with lines like this:
“Booze Creek’s natural banks
are hemmed in
by residential tidiness.”
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I agree with Amy.
I especially liked these lines:
have replaced the waving grass /and wooden paddocks of my childhood.
This poem would fit nicely into a debate about redevelopment.
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