Poem: Ghosts in the Suburban Air.

A poem about a walk I took the other day near where I live. I took the photo on the walk. Hope you enjoy. 

V.

 

Ghosts in the Suburban Air.

Lingering fog and smoky air

surround remaining trees –

the ones which were allowed to stay

when man brought the Mother to her knees.

These woods border the clusters

of homes, yellow brick and red,

and it feels like they remember all

that once stood there instead.

I step inside, crunch on the leaves

with my heavy black boots,

gaze through the grey that's stayed all day,

stepping over branches and roots.

Touching the bark, I feel it;

like the streets hold spirits of my past,

this shadow, here, remembers

vastness not allowed to last.

I wander back through tarmac streets

where I grew up, feel every care

that came from parts of my whole life.

Ghosts hover in the air.

© V. H. Stone