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                                  The Passing

                        
                         This austere place was left once

                         where poplars shed their leaves

                         from flaking trunks


                         Figures play in lights and shadows

                         on a landscape always green

                         quiet voices announce events

                         through muffled boom of megaphones

                         these fields lie fallow now

                         within our ivy covered walls


                         The bridge crosses the river

                         broad in its past

                         old Victorian balustrades

                         adorn the sides

                         encrusted with the soiling of age

                         from migrant birds and weary travelers

                         the river is a survivor

                         serene in its pollution

                         you can lean against the rail

                         and follow its journey to the sea


                         I cannot  remember faces

                         images are two dimensional shadows

                         the faint call of the newsboy

                         trails in the wind and the rain

                                                         Jack Mashman

                                                         Rev. 1994