A grid of old stone walls
Transect New England hills....
Those made of late
Are square and straight,
No room for critters to dwell!
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Made up of glacial moraine,
For centuries the same....
Being cut down
To level ground,
For septic tanks it's claimed!
-
Houses replacing farms,
Solar panels come in swarms....
Idle land
And woodlot stand
Lose their ancient charms!
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Jonathan Caswell
The author lives in New England.
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