the woods offline have a different texture
wild when no tracks or roads dissect
their colours compound in greens of shade and autumn
brings out the flying carpet of their leaves/you find
streams between rocks long standing/companions
where both woods and waters meet
They still indulge in conversations
about land ,and occupations temporary
Clouds,too ,join in this political ecology
They have no part in fluoride/chlorine frauds
Filtered via mountains /rising up through springs
Water lives because it knows that it is good
Somewhere before and after us are spaces-
living seed banks,memory trails,songlines
where the DNA of silences and sounds compound
We may recognize them as indigenous sanctuaries
when our world is golden bird and cage
You do not need to seek this wilderness
It lives within you as you see
all dreams have space and time within them
All you need -is your right to dream...
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