Photo by Vladimir Kudinov from Pexels
For the first time
I want to be back on my low income block
Back on my cracked concrete porch
Watering the few surviving tufts of grass
On our packed dirt lawn.
For the first time, I don’t want
Clean mountain air
Unnaturally blue lakes
Or winding mountain paths.
For the air buzzes with gnats and stings with mosquitoes
The lakes and streams crawl with slugs,
And flow with bacteria and scum.
The paths wind in leisurely, scenic circles,
And never lead back to familiar faces or safety.
In the placid silence, all I can hear is myself
Trying to scream, bravely.
Afraid to share Nature’s bathroom
With a tiny bright-green garden snake,
Finally at one with my insecurities,
Face to face with my self-image,
Unable to rough it,
Unable to tough it out.
The chafing sun is only ever
Obscured by rain-laden clouds
That boom like giant ogres.
The cold and wet
Bring me to the edge of depression,
I want to go home
Sprawl on our cheap couch
And dive into a world
Where nature is a life changing experience,
Who need to
Put down their books
And go outside
And get some fresh air.