Paradise

Paradise

It was just a stand of trees

at the edge of another field

for years I passed without a glance

until a cheerlessly sunny January day

I suppose there's always romance in how things used to be

and not everywhere can be wild

the smoke on the horizon is what caught my eye

drawing close, I saw metal machines had done their rape-and-pillage work

and sons of Adam were cremating the evidence

I paused to watch and grieve

then out from the edge of the wood still standing,

a pheasant in his resplendent garb

cautiously advanced

and then retreated from this human's presence

oh paradise, you are not lost

we mowed you down and plowed you up

and called it progress

I suppose there's always romance in how things used to be

and not everywhere can be wild

It was just a stand of trees

at the edge of another field

oh paradise