Hoping to stay here sixty years or more,
we rent the furnished house on Shady Lane.
The highest house in town, antiques galore,
acres of garden, fields; each window pane
a lens that frames a cherished view of trees
or flowers, hills, the twinkling lights below,
and Venus on her plinth with peonies.
Each week the gardener comes to weed and mow.
We watch the seasons change and have our meals
out on the porch, play games, and hear the ghosts
of former tenants tell us that “We feel
like you, we love this magic place the most.”
They whisper from the rooms and on the lawn,
but leases end and then we, too, are gone.
– Patricia Prodie
