Ravaging of Roxbury Pond mountains
To the Editor:
A family's dream, a child's delight - from morning's break to day's last light - a soothing balm from the rat-filled race - for a man, a rod, and a fishing place.
For years on end, the evening fare - to chase the finback in his lair - no strike or miss to quell the pace. It ended up an even race, but I turn my boat to shore, the breeze has picked "no more, no more."
I say good night to the sundown west, and head my board to home, but singe my eyes from the metal beasts to cover as a dome.
Poor mountain in your youth, such joy in spring detection, now all we see of you today is a manmade vivisection.