Lost

Wordsworth Revisted

"The world is too much with us;

late and soon...,"

I read the poet Wordsworth

fifty years ago,

something he wrote

two hundred years before

and now

‘we see even less in nature that is ours.'

Like broken leaves

that come down at all hours

we're scattered now

differing ways of thought

looking for giant trees

that will bring us back

like water to 'sleeping flowers.'

elders know but silently sit by

ignored but knowing

their words will be lost

along with our mistakes

which pass on to children

who will even see less

‘in nature that is ours.’

But there are a few more sights

giving us hope,

forget Proteus and old Triton

maybe just sunlight

sticking its head

onto a not-so-ugly hole.