Whose woods these are
it doesn’t matter now
there was indeed a forest here
a whole ecosystem
with badgers and ferns
But they are all long gone from here
and what was once his house in a village
perhaps over there
is now right here
where the willow used to stand
The woods were lovely
dark
and deep
you could once loose yourself in them
need to shake a bell
or start a hue and cry
Now in place of the sweet cacophony
that could have been dawn song
or any number of natural
and nostalgic things
are ringtones
and car alarms
The only museums now
for plants and trees
are libraries
and no one goes there either.
I love the rhythm of this poem and the way you broke up the meaning and the fact that the poem isn't transparent at the first second you read it.
Nice job!
Nora