strange
the shrubs seem odd
twisted and lacking
discolored patches dot the landscape
must be the heat of the day
playing with the tricky sod
I stopped
for a closer look

wild flowers
the birds
bees
now that is strange
where are they?
dead shrubs
brown, dried-up trees
stood feebly
against the
chilly hot rays
of the summer sun

an odor
pulled me ahead
here and there
pockets of weird growth
lay scattered around
green and purple foam
oozed from cracks
bubbling
sporadically
to a futuristic beat

turning
in disgust
at the neglect
the stupid action
the legacy
clearly visible  
my silent alarm penetrates
the eerie stillness
and memories
of a lush, green scene
fragrant and vividly painted
with nature's touch 

worried
about
tomorrow's ride

soft`rain
June 1997