The Golf Course

It is nice to be permitted,
to walk the paths through
the golf course.

What was left of the great wood
Is now surrounded
by prim, cut turfs
straight
fluorescent
and sickly green.

I stick to these paths,
when I visit the sacred ground,
so as not to disturb the
paying members.

And within that rugged wood,
as mowing machines work outside,
I can tell you:

"I come in tribute.
Don't be ashamed of
your weathered looks.
Rich in memory
With moss and tangled root
Knots and twists
Of ivy and fern.
You still stand as
sanctuary"

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/fJeKxH83tn

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xcDSh3DCAM