The Earth is patient

A tree grows slowly,but the Earthis patient.It has been nine yearssince Forrestchecked his location.

Debris and detritus,leaves and branches,the whole logs.Have been heaped and piled,dropped and rainedlike cats and dogs.

The mounds grew upwhere landwas flat before.The streams have razedand bored,knolls are no more.

And even massive,hard and solidigneous rocks.The sun and windshave splitinto little blocks.

If this placewas securedand off the beaten path.It's now preservedand shelteredby Nature's wrath.

A deermay come in orderto quench its thirst.A bear could passthrough the areauncoerced.

A hikerwho lost himselfand went astray.An outlawin searchof a hideaway...

And the tree that fallsin these woodsmakes no sound.As explainedby a famous koanwhen no one's around.

I thinkI just hearda distant owl hoots.Soft and lighton the trailis the sound of hunter's boots.

And no one is thereto hearthe clomp of the boot.And no one is thereto witnessthe taking of loot.

More debris and detritus,leaves and branches,and whole logs.

Will be heaped and piled,dropped and rainedlike cats and dogs.

The Nature reclaimsat lastForrest's secret place.That's how it endsthe gameknown as Chase.