SCRAPING

My friends live at the end of a dirt lane,
Not a long one. The dirt accepts the press
Of cars, vans, trucks. And grain by grain
Over the year the heavy tires’ duress

Creates a shallow, then a deeper rut,
Muddy in spring, but mostly firmly gravel–
Good for a Grand Canal In Lilliput,
For bikers a mild impediment to travel.

Surprise! Today the annual ordeal
Has come and gone. The lane is newly scraped!
The gentle indentations are repealed.
We’re back to flatness, the concave ruts unshaped.

The scraper wins the surface, but deep within
Compaction still retains its discipline.

(17, April 23, 1992)

Comments

Near our house lies a mansion Lady Pepperrell House. The original owner built a home for his daughter which was known as Sparhawk Hall. There was a dirt road Sparkawk Lane which led to that house, bent around and joined the main road. I remember attending birthday parties there. I remember a fall when an apple tree delivered gigantic pound apples. You could make several apple pies from a single fruit.

In the back of the house was a large work shed which included a linotype machine and a printing press. The weekly Kittery Press newspaper was created there and for several years I made a few dollars a week delivering it by bicycle.

[John Alvord 12/3/2025]

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