Lares of Golden Bank

Bank of flowing stream
old as the ice age
unfolds an earthen countenance
as undines shriek beneath.

I behold a furrowed brow
tilled and rolled, decked with seed-
Golden Bank Croft, Golden Bank Meadow
watching the grasses grow, seeing them reaped.

Your crown is houses now-
Burnside Way and Bank Parade,
you shrink, becoming Lares
to hide your reality and age.

Roused back to size by candlelight,
regathered as bank, old as time,
arriving burrowed with field mice
I behold your earthen face.

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