Detritus

Abandoned,
only the ghosts
of long ago remain
within the battered board and tin
now fallen to ruin;

staggering,
hunched downward,
encompassed by leaf flotsam,
returning to wilderness,
primeval.

Gaia encircles this detritus
of human habitation with loving arms,
lonely sentinels standing guard
against the march of populace,

wild grasses weave
a tattered refrain
within the broken walls, tufting
through the windows, waltzing
in the breeze that flows

around and about, whispering
and singing songs
of the departed . . .

from whence we came
so we return . . .