Natura sapiens

I think we're all so set at looking down
that'm not seeing above our horizon of roofs
we've got mountains, na tis old.
And one tone higher than the whirr of cars
we've got an incessant melody of birds. It's
that background music against this noise in our minds. That motor.

We never look up from this street pavement, now wet with ponderings and muddles,
To see the rain dropping on your face makes you hide.

We never realise we hurry to places we don't want to be. Rush to meetings or rencontres in which we don't say much or learn.
Patience, beauty and that green we all cultivate next to that soggy paper.
Often all we see is a metallic grey of cars,
the bright red of lights and another street,
again.

Inspect those old paths below our feet, do we look, follow?
That puddle fills.
We're too scared to take that walk through the leaves in autumn.

Do we ever smell nature? Do we notice the sweet smell of trees or can we scent the rich aroma of ground under water?
Do we ever hear the leaves crunch beneath our feet or feel them? Are those birds I hear?
Am I looking?.. at that building of stone and metal or am I just seeing the clock behind those trees, over that river- with ducks.
Have we conquered nature with our black paths and roads? Have we trapped it, cornered it, controlled it yet?
We sweep those leaves and mow that lawn, we trim the tree. We do control it, but its branches loom over us and they are dripping on the back of my head, drooped over these pages.
I make a fleeting glance up and miss the tones of the clouds, I cannot see the shades of nature for they have dripped too far. But my page is darkened now as I cast my shadow from the light to protect it from this wretched rain.

Again?