Along the course I often go
a narrow twisting two lane road
lies a tract whose owner I don't know
bereft of even one abode

Country land not far from town
a mix of forest and fallow glade
years since any hay mowed down
there by men who scorned cool shade

Though unposted, I've not roamed this place
but I've every time slowed down to look
and think to test my halting pace
in search of a suspected brook

But today from sagging fence's brace
on corners 'bout half mile apart
somebody left an orange trace
survey ribbons gave me a mild start

And in the middle loud and bold
on land I didn't know for sale
a new sign simply stating "SOLD"
now stood within a weedy swale

With certain dread I know that change
is soon to come upon this place
which I suspect will soon turn strange
and lose its lonesome sylvan grace