Gretna

we boys would play kick the can

on dusky fall evenings

running all over town

past towering elevators

down main street with

elegant red brick post office on the corner

a building that told of grander days

before the fires

tinder dry stores in flames

when the CPR came through

             ripe grain falling into waiting cars

when horses raced the track

ladies and gentlemen watching from the stands

when the old mansions were built

             pretentious pillars gleaming on whitewashed porches 

the trees remember

             arching elms and oaks stately and sedate

             seasoning the times good and bad

             stretching back to buffalo herds roaming
             the lush valley of the Pembina

river across the border

shaping the landscape

spring floods marking the memory

             water ignoring banks and boundaries

             sandbags along the border creating strange beach 

we played until it was too dark

walking home under harvest moon

shining through the ages

like a home town in one’s mind