Why do I find such
small vestiges of
humanity here?

Here, in my sacred spot.
I believed no others would
make their way so far from
civilization, and yet here's
proof we're all searching
for the same thing:

a dead squirrel here,
crushed by one who's not
in touch with their inner
human, now squished into
my sneaker; two bikes; a
plastic table and chairs;
some broken twigs beneath
my swollen feet which
alert me to your prescence.

Oh, invaders of my holy
grounds, why do you spite
me, mock me with your deep
voices (far from the
twittering of birds) and
the uncouth sight of you,
looking at me, looking for
you to leave.

Ah, peace.
But still, beneath my
soggy, muddy, bottom is
one last cement tribute
of humanity, blocking me
from falling into this
muddy mirror below with
dying, rotting leaves
floating below my
dangling feet.

11/06/2005