Back then, I lived in the country
Where town was a place to go, and
All along the way, past fields
And houses and people,
The places never seemed to change.
Maybe, a fall sunset coloring the dried grass,
Or a summer fog bringing a closeness,
Almost a cozy warmth.
Those were the changes that mattered.
If I passed at the right time,
The old man was working in his garden.
His wife unseen, until, passing on my return,
She would be sitting on the porch
Taking note of the tiniest of changes.
All this goes unseen.
When I lived in town, things really moved.
Gone were the October sunsets,
And quiet morning fogs.
Now people, and hustle with the expected bustle.
Who knew this happened here?
Buildings, new and old
Signs, meters and billboards,
Cars, fashion and sex.
All of it growing and moving,
All of the time.
When I lived in the country,
Town was a place to go,
So that I could come home,
and see those tiny changes,
all along the way.