Beyond the dramas of the town,
Outside the battleground of now,
The creatures, barely human, form
And question our complacent ways,
By simply being with the hum,
And spinning through the forest lanes.
By breaking and remaking whole,
By calling all the creatures home.
They nest their fictions in the earth,
Lay naked all their tales and truths.
They slip – revolting – from our grasp.
They drip – as fungus – from our pasts.
And bloated, we build roads and walls
And so much noise we drown their moans.