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A Walk in the Woods


On one evening in the Spring, as I took a usual trek,

Down in the meadows, I followed the winding stream.

In my pausing at the edge, of a heavily wooded tract,

All looked to be supernatural, to seem as in a dream.

There were no flowering of trees, there, not a sound,

Only decaying leaves were to be so strewn all around.

No happy birds or furry squirrels like you might expect,

I began to feel uneasy, as all of my senses did misdirect.


That sun-drenched forest which had always been there,

Now had a lifelessness, as many limbs were to be bare.

No butterflies or bees buzzing, unusual scenes, so rare.

At the beginning, my head was spinning, about this affair.

An odd and strongest stench of rotting flesh, to permeate,

Fallen creatures, lifeless forms, never again to appreciate.

The stain and smell of a residual oil coated the landscape,

That once clear creek was now stained, as all to deteriorate.


As I quietly stood all alone on that creekside's overlook,

A sadness descended upon me, my senses, it overtook.

For now was no beauty, of a pleasant, so revered retreat,

No happy birds to sing, small critters scurrying at my feet.

That local oil company had polluted all from its leaking well,

Now no place of sanctuary left, the environment was so frail.

Seems a plight of all in this day and time, not an end in sight,

Begging change in a thinking of each, for futures to be bright.



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