the pasture sprawls:
once dull & docile cows
now have feral eyes.
Feral [Haiku]
2

mountain hermit
looks over the city…
turns, walks back to hut.
I ventured beyond civilization, and (by man's definition) I was lost. I knew no near city, state, or nation. Who knows what backwoods borders I'd crossed? I'd drifted down streams: still and rapid tossed, and when boat filled faster than I could bale, I took to foot. Onward at any cost! I passed over mountains and through their vales, and trudged the badlands, unparted by trails. But he who's lost is often he who finds, and I learned history's forfeit details in form of ruins in a sheltered blind. Oh! What novel and beautiful sights are had by lost souls in eternal nights!
In rustic cabins far away from here there live some happy people of the woods. With ruddy cheeks, they're exemplars of cheer. They never visit cities selling goods. They live on what the forest can render, and that's not so much, but it is enough. They tune themselves to nature's vast splendor. In cold, they don skins, but when hot, go buff. Or, perhaps, I lie, and no such people exist in this world or any other. And woods people fuss on matters, fecal -- just like you, I, and all our grandmothers. These cheery, simple woods folk must exist, if only in the mind of this fantasist.
How to Read the Wilderness: An Illustrated Guide to the Natural Wonders of North America by Nature Study Guild
Forest Walking: discovering the trees and woodlands of North America by Peter Wohlleben
jungle engulfs,
swallows, and digests
once proud buildings