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By Joshua Mehigan

Nothing has changed. They have a welcome sign,

a hill with cows and a white house on top,

a mall and grocery store where people shop,

a diner where some people go to dine.

It is the same no matter where you go,

and downtown you will find no big surprises.

Each fall the dew point falls until it rises.

White snow, green buds, green lawn, red leaves, white snow.


This is all right. This is their hope. And yet,

though what you see is never what you get,

it does feel somehow changed from what it was.

Is it the people? Houses? Fields? The weather?

Is it the streets? Is it these things together?

Nothing here ever changes, till it does.


Source: Poetry (February 2010)

  • Living
  • Social Commentaries

Poet Bio

Joshua Mehigan
Poet Joshua Mehigan grew up in upstate New York and received a BA from Purchase College and an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Influenced by the poetry of Philip Larkin, Jorge Luis Borges, and Edgar Bowers, Mehigan writes intelligent, morally complex lyric poems shaped by a nuanced attention to rhyme and meter. Mehigan has worked as an editor and instructor, and lives in New York City. See More By This Poet

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