this is not the woods

and wildlife is not

two chipmunks scampering

across the sidewalk

the trees stand here

in landscaped disorder

shrugging leaves with

seasoned indifference

approximating nature

I tell myself as birds

the real ones not

pigeons or sparrows

dart between branches

yet even the grass

seems untame somehow

and the ground itself

alive with uncertainty

as I stand for a moment

on this hill displaced

from concrete from glass

their inert familiarity

one life jumbled among many

I’m not alone I realize

yearning to belong in such

manufactured wilderness

while gently from below

come muffled growls

automobile grizzlies

lumbering along their

winding asphalt trails