Preserving the Heritage

Grandfather cleared this land,
built walls from stones that surface
every year, a never-ending crop
in this New England soil.
Father sowed broad fields of corn
that stood in ranks like
soldiers on parade with upraised
sword blades rustling in the wind.
Now Cambodians raise strange fruit
and water spinach where our
peach trees grew, smile at me and speak
an unknown tongue. The land endures.