No more strolls through the forest. There is no forest. Merely a bald spot on the landscape’s crown, with, here and there, some sprouts of low growth. This is the aftermath of felling and building, of the need to have some place to live even if it means less reason for living. A new development is soon to rise in this very spot. A stroll through a house has a lot to live up to. -------------------- John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review and Round Table. His latest books, “Leaves On Pages” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon.