Behind the house in a field
there’s a metal box I buried
full of childhood treasure, a map
of my secret place, a few lead pennies
The rest I’ve forgotten,
forgotten even the exact spot
I covered with moss and loam.
Now I’m back and twenty years
have made so little difference
I suspect they never happened,
this face in the mirror
aged with pencil and putty.
I suspect even
the box has moved as a mole would move
to a new place long ago.
This poem can be found in the volume, Particles: New & Selected Poems.
Think about how the poem made you feel. Did you ever have a box of personal treasures? Or a time capsule you buried so the future Jetsons of the world would remember you?
May you live out another beautiful poem in the collection of your life today, and we’ll see you again tomorrow.