The Custom of the Country

You approach the country.
You observe the custom.  
You salute the sentry.
There must be a first time.  
 
There must be a first time.    
The air is wintry.                     
You adapt your costume.
You once were gentry.    
 
You once were gentry.   
You accept the system.
You admire the pantry.            
There must be a last time.
 
There must be a last time.
You have made your entry.
The rest is custom.
The rest is the country.

Julia Griffin

 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Julia Griffin would be pleased to hear them.