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.
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