Thick and deep brown mud

Wet with circumstance

Hold heavy footprints

That crisscross in frenzy

And scatter backwards

From the woods just beyond

Cameras and notepads sketch the scene

As they walk around the caving portions of earth

Holding secrets no place should know

The trees the only living witnesses to this crime

If only they could speak

What terror would they scream?

Long and lanky stretching skyward

Trying to escape this place

Their greenery makes the weather

Seem wetter than it is

Trapping and holding rain and dew

Caught by thirsty leaves and thick hard branches

Somehow they slip away and fall to earth

Free at last

If only his victims

Could have done the same