Empty Nest

I mentioned earlier how the nearby campground had been closed last summer, which allowed it to be taken over by wildlife. Well obviously that was then and this is now. 


However I wrench obstinate bark and trunk
To my sweet will, no luminous shape
Steps out in radiant limb, eye, lip,
To hoodwink the honest earth which pointblank
     Spurns such fiction
     As nymphs; cold vision
     Will have no counterfeit
     Palmed off on it.

from On the Difficulty of Conjuring up a Dryad, by Sylvia Plath