Beneath the leaves that lounge today,
lay a dirt road yesterday
that dead ended at the bottom of the hill
at a pasture that lies there still.

It used to be a full fledged road,
No recollection, just what I was told,
As kids we had only known it old.

The trees arched to hem its bald dirt crown in.
The county graded the furrows from its brow.
There was no Botox then like there is now.

Down it once came crashing the tomboy neighbor girl,
her bare feet off the pedals coming down.
“I can’t stop, I can’t stop,” she yelled.
She hit the gate so hard it made her brother cry.

The traffic of youth,
the farmer’s old pickup,
once kept the grass at bay
but trees sprout now
beneath leaves October dripped.