Through the dells and forest glens
ancient trees, and meadow streams
running free, across the land
far from man and his machines
Seasons change as all things do
the balance shifted and swayed
laundromats and shopping malls
As the wild places began to fade
Days now spent among their friends
the constant rumbling of motor cars
Greeting people who stroll on by
acting wild from behind the bars
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 