Do you recall, when we were young,
The two trees up on Harper’s Hill?
We sat beneath them many times,
And I recall their fragrance, still
Just after showers, or before,
Their white bare bark as days grew cold —
They served as models for our hopes
Of two, together, growing old.
But now I read the old hill’s changed:
The trees cut down, a tower raised,
For cellphone use, like yours or mine,
The current residents unphased.
And though the name’s not used these days,
That’s always Harper’s Hill to me,
But that’s the way that these things go,
For change is part of