And through the meadows homeward went, in grave
And serious mood; but after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days, my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being; o’er my thoughts
There hung a darkness, call it solitude
Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes
Remained, no pleasant images of trees,
Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;
But huge and mighty forms, that do not live
Like living men, moved slowly through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.
I'm still grieving for the loss of the forest and its creatures. It will never be the same--and I daresay, neither will I. Over the past two years I have lost place after favorite place to wildfires, most of them human-caused. It is not an easy loss to take; to me it is like losing a loved one.