escape and landscape

A Dream, Amaranthine and Arcadian

No pretense here, just the sincere and unshakeable
memories from an engineered landscape still shuddering
an arcadian soul, lodged in mind, muscle and marrow
as I walk this dream I once had when I was still unwillingly
shuttered inside the teeth-whitened bite of suburban development,
peering out at a panorama devoid of old growth trees and
teeming with an unchecked, reckless abandon of endless farmland
falling prey to curb, sewer, sidewalk and sod replicating itself
without aid, an asexual advance flirting with disaster, asleep
beside me where I dreamt these amaranthine, undeveloped acres,
these farmed then fallow, farmed then fallow fields and woods whose
ancient histories are held within now holding mine as well as I walk this
dream I once had when sleep was my only escape from false pretense.