In the woods there are houses
and bricks like broken teeth,
pockmarks in the bramble thorns and climbing ivy,
vines like fingers, tucked in deep on walls
battered and spat into tumble-down ruins
sinking further into the banks
where the river coils and drifts
between the reeds and weeds
and the washed up refuse
of someone’s empty pockets,
as the sky passes over
those flickers from the undergrowth
until it all, eventually, grows still.
I was really stuck for what to write for this prompt and in the end this was about all that I could manage. I’m not sure if it fits exactly with the style of ‘ecopoetry’ but I’m hoping I managed to get the mix of human and nature into this piece.