THE RUBBLE THE RUBBLE

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We were off trail by Slaughter Creek, and the further we went in, we encountered old oaks that had obviously grown so tall they could no longer bear their own weight. These large limbs, the size of regular trees, littered the riverbank and some still hung precipitously on other branches right over our heads. It felt like RUINS of another time. We were near a ritzy neighborhood but hidden in the Slaughter Creek wilderness. Sadly, I felt civilization crowding in, and this slim greenbelt slowly sinking in a quicksand of time. What I felt and what I later wrote, was an elegy, to tell you the truth, a poetic lament for a disappearing wilderness.

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