It’s a short view today into rolling gray
Distant peaks lost as a lonely minute
Cloudswathed
As I turn I spot the first invertebrates of the year
Harmless gnats hovering in my wake
A portent of an early spring
Perhaps
Or one of nature’s sacrificial forays
Playing the odds at a myriad of tables
Dogs have carved furrows into the moss
Tearing at my heartstrings in the process
I think how rare is this remnant meadow
A singular vestige of defining landscape
Marooned on this oaken hilltop
Surrounded by the ignorant
Who have only known cultivated playgrounds
And manicured lawns
Later, the fog will lift
Clarity will return
If only outside
David Trudel © 2013
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Furrows
It’s a short view today into rolling gray
Distant peaks lost as a lonely minute
Cloudswathed
As I turn I spot the first invertebrates of the year
Harmless gnats hovering in my wake
A portent of an early spring
Perhaps
Or one of nature’s sacrificial forays
Playing the odds at a myriad of tables
Dogs have carved furrows into the moss
Tearing at my heartstrings in the process
I think how rare is this remnant meadow
A singular vestige of defining landscape
Marooned on this oaken hilltop
Surrounded by the ignorant
Who have only known cultivated playgrounds
And manicured lawns
Later, the fog will lift
Clarity will return
If only outside
David Trudel © 2013
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Filed under Poetry
Tagged as blank verse, environmentalism, free verse, invertebrates, knockan hill, natural history, park stewardship, poetry, social commentary