A Jersey Shore in Ryegate
There were raspberries in that pasture
there was a hill from which we could
see a couple old Vermont towns
we were the youth of the fifties
scrambling through the brush
dodging cows that gave us
a puzzled eye
chewing cud in docile amusement
the herd stared silently
So many decades later
I walked up to where the barbed wire fence
once stood separating humans and bovines
no fence, no cows, no youth
all of it grown over with brush
that hill lost in youth
surely still on that once pure green
horizon
but now just a memory
leaves me still pondering
what those cows thought of us
and how strange we must have
seemed to them
as we carried buckets of raspberries
back to the old farmhouse.
erin-cilberto
7/19/25
How sad that all things must change. I can relate in some ways just walking out my front door and seeing rows of houses where once woods where we played sat. All my childhood friends left when they heard of other boroughs moving in. They were right. I can imagine how hard it must be for you to go back and see a different world, one not so loving.
thanks Tim…most of it is the same….this concerned one particular spot I remembered, or thought I did and wanted to look at it once more. But I could not get to it…all overgrown…
thanks for your words…and sharing your story.
j.
This poem is full of gentle nostalgia – the raspberries, the cows, the hills all bring the past vividly to life. It’s quietly profound, and I could almost step into that memory myself. Beautifully done, j
I wish you could literally step into it, Romaj ….it was and still is so beautiful up there in Ryegate.
Thanks for your words.
j.
Phenomenally penned, Jacob. Love the nostalgic flavor, and the memories in a small corner of a past universe. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Easy to write about that place; it is the most special place for me.
thank you.
j.
Some say you should never go back. Not me, I am a great one for nostalgia. Things change, not always for the better, but memories last a lifetime. Fabulous poem and your latest book title too. I love our bovine friends. Can remember walking through meadows myself as a child.
Chris
Nothing like going back….nothing like it at all.
thanks, Chris