El Dorado Nature Center
Brandon Cook
The forest, seemingly dealt a death wound by the encroaching swaths of concrete in this greedy city, its woods nearly asphyxiated by asphalt,
Is a remarkable magician, slipping free,
A grand Houdini
A mage and a sage with some great prank to play,
A cardsharp who has pulled the winning ace
As we walk through its woods, the world falls away
And though we can still hear, near us, the faint drumming of the freeway
Always on this walk
Another noise overtakes us, soundlessly
If you’re quiet, you can hear something say
That the most minute tree breathes with the promise of ferocity
The Nature Center, after all, smells the same as the Black Forest, dark and unyielding, Just waiting to break free
And so
Ominous promises rise on every side:
This forest is a stronghold, bristling in the knowledge that someday
It will be at liberty
And will hold hands once again with all its brothers, across the land
It but slumbers here, while future visions appear
As at the coming of the Christ,
Cities and gardens will end their strife
And wolves lie down with lambs
As we walk, free of worry,
And hand-in-hand