Poetry
CLEAR-CUT
Spring, and the cut is revealed.
One thousand years of history
gone
in a season.
Reap the new harvest,
Streams
unfit to drink
Ponds
polluted and dying
A land
without shadows
A land
without habitats
Count the losses,
one more valley
one more watershed
One more lake
one more wild space
Switchbacks scar the hillside
Rains speed the erosion
Rains trigger the landslides
The land is unrecognizable
Perhaps it will come back
Not like before, never like before