A SNAPSHOT IN TIME
From the bend of the river
We look back at town,
Our eyes first drawn
To the fall-colored copse
Of maples and oaks
Beyond the boathouse
Of the post-colonial
Academy and below
The cupolas of the
Briefly colonial capitol’s
Church and town hall.
Across the tumbling outflow
From the crumbling Great Dam
Rise mustard-colored walls
Of once-dockside warehouses
A mill run apart from
The towering smokestacks
Of one-time mills. And
Then a fluttering flag
Marks the brick powder house
Whose contents were fired
At the Battle of Bunker Hill.
So much we see as we
Look back before we
Turn to go down the river.
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