Like Mushrooms

Like mushrooms in the moss,
houses appear overnight
where once deer and birds
shared solitude with trees.

Like ant's single-minded march
to unknown destinations
we lug all we own 
from home to home
telling ourselves 
this will be the last move.

Until forests become ant hills,
woodland paths become highways,
trees become extinct 
and bird song is only heard
through ear phones.

We find ourselves searching
for the quiet, peaceful place
that once was home.

©Sharron R. McMillan