(Photo by Colin + Meg for Unsplash)
Natural History happens
Everywhere - it’s all around us,
Whether we sense it or mostly
Not.
Even so…
That empty lot, that
Brick boundaried corner, the one with
Plastic bags spinning in the wind, like
Dervishes of destiny… even
These places have stories,
Mysteries spoken in the
Skitters of nocturnal
Creatures and the
Crevices carved in
Concrete, they hold something
Growing, searching
Moving towards the sunlight
The detritus of what we discard
Ruin and abuse remains, reimagines and
Becomes.
Even here
Emptiness is but a
Mirage and
Miracles are waiting for their turn to
Birth.
Love the sentiment in this post, Kym. I have a soft spot in my heart for these kinds of places. The parallels to our own human lives come forward. It's easy (for us historical fiction lovers) to imagine the lives these places had in their primes. Even as we age and drive by our favorite old haunt that's now derelict, it tugs at some corner of our consciousness - that nostalgia for days gone by, and the recognition that we, too, will travel this path. Hopefully, not forgotten. (I love your use of alliteration, too!)