harm II

a walk up through the
silent woods, all still,
leaves drip - under foot
pine needles and tree
root, to a mirror-loch
black, unreflective,
broods -

all the way is quiet:
no birds, far off
the sound of saws
where the trees fall
without protest -

no cause for alarm -
I try and be still -
the lorry loads pass
re-pass with spoil -
there is no clean arm:
all our deeds - my
past crowds round
like bad seeds:
a bad taste in the mouth

thin soil, no good food
all the things I did
unseen by those I would
... and all the rest 
a world of harm

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