jim hogg - Smoke on the Rooftops

Our era was chimney smoke
idly falling onto rooftops
and gradually into memories
we never noticed

Not soundtracked by traffic's snarl
children's whoops were not quite pure
but echoed no threat,
nor eras to come

Handsaw cut on cuddies
old slabs of pine in flames -
under a shovel of smush -
were the fragrance of our time, and

out across our open ground
Bobby Johnstone yelling 'Dio diote',
melting butter dripping
from a scone as he ran,

was the leitmotif, until
they crowded us with houses
rushed us with lorries and vans,
wails of urgent passers through,

and I think we might have loved it then.
But, down in the woods now
sometimes for long moments
in the smoke from burning branches

I can go home

jim hogg

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/smoke-on-the-rooftops/