Colosseum

Up here, slowly, no rush,

this rocky path right here.

Don’t mind the gate or the flanking weeds,

they’re not a bother once they pass.

Beyond that short summit, the meadow,

full of tall grass and pale wheat,

rolling hills like waves in an ocean.

Further down this path,

along the outskirts of the meadow,

is the quickest way to the top.

I don’t like that way - I like the challenge

of climbing every hill while gazing around

at the blue and white canopy above me

and the giant green trees enclosing

me in here like the walls of a colosseum.

Look at this patch of grass.

A scar on this field, a mole, a beauty mark

of passion and regret, where I gained

love shortly but at the cost of friendship.

Beyond there, that distant corner,

a gap in the wall of trees I do not remember.

Broken down wood and splinters from

civilization, a concept far removed from this place

until now.  It’s a breach in the defenses of the 

sanctuary which I’ve called home for years,

a smoking ruin.

Written in during the autumn of 2017