Righteous Violence & The Failed State of Nature

The several hundred acres of life that managed to stay hid as "fallow ground", is gone. The ground will remain fallow (no "farming" is anticipated for years), but its is now distressed ground. Harrow ground. Whipped-by-its-leash ground.

Gone are the all the grasses; all the herbaceous flowerings; all the many, many spiders; all the many flies; gophers, field mice & voles; gone are the merlins, the kestrels, the kites, the hawks;  gone the skippers & butterflies; gone the jack-rabbit & bush bunny; gone the red wing black bird, the quail, the starling, the robin & swallow; gone the gopher snakes & garters & kings & rattlers; gone the hurrying lizard; gone the many species of beetles; gone the crickets, gone the lacewings; gone the grasshoppers, the leaf hoppers; gone the great blue herons; gone the barn owl, gone the great horned owl; gone the ground squirrel, the red squirrel; gone the bob cat, gone the coyote.  Gone the satisfaction of the sun and how our planet endeavors.

The many, many more we cannot name because we do not know—they too are gone. Gone is the path. Gone is the expectation. Gone the intimate splendor. Gone the surprise. Gone the companions!

Gone the companions! Gone.