a poem about moving from London to the peruvian jungle, and about fossil fuels

Exchanged muddy, grimy soot

weighty stones, steeped in time and power

exchanged it for the juicy green,

the dripping leaves that sing their sap

the wooden houses that rot and sag

then are born again in fresh timber

leaves and fruit that die to nourish other leaves

nothing clings to time

and yet,

dust and grime collect even here

Here also the black film settles where humans walk or drive

the black film and mist that is the ghost of towering creatures long forgotten.

Here also

we burn the puddles left by extinct life, the black abyss of forgetfulness

we burn them to feed our hurry, our need for bright colours soon forgotten

and here too, dust gathers.

the sand spilled by the hourglass,

the dust we spill as we dwindle into decay and oblivion.

here too, where people gather, the luminous green is stained, 

and dusty with our ashes.