the distant motor lumbering labor
keeps us comfy in the sun and tree.
thinking questions old and solemn
avoiding truth and heaviness
in the light November holiness.
a squirrel chases a jogger
chasing her dreams of control and accuracy.
the bench is cold and proclaims occurred deaths and their depths
while the warmth of the dirt
reminds that history starts over every morning.
but these are human musings-
like so many before me
I came here to change myself back to nature
and wound up replacing just a little bit of nature