Where the Woods Were

There was a woods here once.

Biking by, I would hear the mockingbird sing.

Today 

I hear no birds.

I skulk past the sign.

Past the beauty strip of trees

left behind

to shield the drivers

from sights

they do not want to see.

Once there was warm soil

rich with worms...













Now...

Crushed.

Once...


Branches nestled birds
















Now...

The crane rules the sky.

Once...

Thick warm nubbly trunks.

Now......

.
.
.

...gone.

I kneel on the dusty ground.

and reach for the last leaf of grass.

It wavers in the dry wind.

I creep behind the giant crane

to see what he sees as he trumbles along.

as he crushes.

I climb the huge treads of the sleeping beast.

I look inside the cab.




What does he think - the man who drives the beast?











Does he see the birds flutter from their broken homes?

Can he hear

the scurry of the animals

over the roar of the wheels?










It's quiet now.

The dust settles around my curious shoes.

I bow my head.


and walk away.