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Affordable
Housing By Ken
Shiovitz An ancient mansion lasts
alongside languid flow of the muddy Rouge River, Absorbing odor of decaying
detritus and oily chemical waste, Released from a century of
daily dealings upstream. Sturdy cubes of granite
preserve the country estate, First conceived by Henry Ford,
and now concealed By iron gate encrusted with
wild grape and Virginia creeper, Framing formal entrance to
elegant grand ballroom, And lofty fenestrated library,
complete with bronze bust, As witness to expensive
private wedding parties. Shielded from osage
orange-lined lane of approach, Mowed lawns fall away in a
sweeping green swath, Toward rich acres of teeming
deciduous forest. Paths interweaving the woody
nature preserve, Approach dens of red fox and
woodchuck, Straw covered streets of vole
and shrew. Yet, interrupted where the
neglected, rougher ground Slopes toward the Rouge, a
much smaller stone house Stubbornly reminds of
forgotten toil and discovery. Built near a dam, where
meandering flow falls as a sheet into foam, Shimmering across the entire
width of the river, Hardly the height of one
enterprising human being, Broken only by irregularities
of worn rock, The silken overflow above, so
shallow and calm, A child might walk barefoot to
the other side. More compelling, the span of
earth linking dam to stone powerhouse, A sloping bank, densely
wrapped in vine, bracken fern, and goldenrod, Merging drone of deerfly with
“o-ka-leee” of red-winged blackbird. Perhaps unsurprising then,
when vines of poison ivy, laid aside carefully, By wrapped arm and gloved
hand, from foundation stone, reveal, “This here cornerstone laid by
Thomas Alva Edison.” Far down the long mowed apron
of lawn, just by the forest edge, An old root cellar is barely
visible beneath the grassy ridge, Its earthen walls compacted
cold and hard. Ancient gray logs define the
entrance, as posts and lintel, Beckoning for a touch across
history and time, But a finger pushes right on
through the rot. |
