A solitary late evening stroll through quiet woods reveals
the things you don’t get to think about that much.
In the quiet moments, the sights, sounds and smells–so real;
not so spoiled by the greedy careless touch.
So many years ago, recalling through memory’s foggy haze,
we were taught that forests, not fishing, was what counted most.
The fishers were poor but the woods workers enjoyed better days.
Three paper mills bore prospects of a life of which they’d boast
For generations the forests brought life, riches and culture; no ills.
Great stands of black spruce grew and fell to men who loved working so close to the land,
while back at home sons and daughters studied and learned to work at the great mills.
A way of life grew and so many thought it would be able to withstand.
The digital world’s need for newsprint is less and less in the long haul
and there’s only so much arse wipe that we now need.
One by one trees used to fall
until hardly any were left at all,
but now we aren’t cutting trees
just plants and jobs nobody needs.
Where once there were three now we barely still have one…but maybe not for long.
And, yes, there are surely those we can see what’s been taken away;
who think about industries–newspapers mostly–who still struggle on.
They suggest, “But without those papers the truth will now fall prey
and all we’ll have is lolcats, clickbait and scams until all good sense is gone.
But then again change doesn’t have to mean loss, maybe just replacement.
That so-called golden age gave little thought to equality safety or good health.
The certainty in that time was often just debasement–
those fabled papers mostly conduits for the ideas of those of wealth.
And so, a quiet walk, alone, among the fragrant trees
reminds you that while some is lost much still remains.
Perhaps if we stop always looking for things to sell to meet our needs
a more harmonious coexistence can be attained.
But none of that matters as a trail just stretches on–
bite of winter wind, crunch of snow with each new onward stride.
The dimming light of setting sun reminds one of times now gone
but spring is just ahead; for now I’ll enjoy what the forest always will provide.