Are we going to lose another dirt road? Looks like it. Not a single tree was left standing on what used to be a heavily canopied path. It took me so long before giving this trail a try. But when I did, I found the solitude I was looking for.

It was less used than the dirt road that led to it. That road connected Carusocan and Botao. Half of it was already cemented, but the path is too narrow. Two motorcycles would fit on it but not two tricycles. When a tricycle comes, I get out of the way, carrying my bike with me.

The canopied dirt path was not as busy as the road before it. I once thought it was just a short road that ended at someone’s house. When I tried walking it, I was surprised to discover that it was twice as long as the main road. It took me an entire afternoon to cover all of it. It led to some houses, some wide fields, and at the end of it was a Catholic walking garden. Of course, I walked the garden. None of these were in Google Maps. Only locals knew about this road. But that will soon end.

Iron structures lie on the corner of the fields, which are lower than the trail. At the tip of the trail’s second segment, a Hitachi excavator is parked. It has already flattened both segments of the road. They are cementing the trail turning it into a farm-to-market-road. The irrigation canal shall become concrete as well. For farmers, it is about time. For walkers like me, so long.

As I walked with my bike trailing beside me, I saw a massacre of trees, some 10-15 years old. On top of one cadaver, a pied fantail perched. I walk pass it, sensed me, and flew low over the short grass. Nearby, a devil’s needle hovers over the little water left on the canal. Summer must have been tough. Is it bringing the trees’ souls to the afterlife?

In the province, when you clear a piece of land covered with trees, you will find underneath what they have covered their entire life—sachets, diapes, decomposing plastics. Now they are all together with the fallen trees—all just garbage polluting the land. As I look at all this mess, someone started singing Masdan Mo Ang Kapaligiran on the karaoke.

I looked in front of me and I saw some cows grazing on dry grass. Nearby, goats are eating fresh grass. Above me, a kite hovers—a black kite, almost like a lawin. Beneath, a group of young boys are running around. One of them was just standing, pulling the kite as he stares at it above.

I continued walking and looked down. A poem is coming my way.

To do