photograph           the trees.  notice   the wild     wood

early               while  walking,   imagine it               may

be mine.    to care for , to let be.                       it could.

it is for                 sale.   new   sign  on the gate,  today

the charcoal burner .                       he is a woods man

smoke rises grey.  price is mentioned .           plenty.

I think on his words, the idea, owning              land,

crashing back into the wild wood.                   empty

headed.  it is good to be quiet,                            alone

away from their thickening  throng ,          the dread .

soft voices.   smoke rises slow,   ashes.      old bone.

dust and dust , by dust  we bury the                      dead.

he will split the wood.           they may come and buy,

yet in my head the wild wood                    will be mine.

sbm.