It should be a law:
No cutting of trees, please.
No desecration of life-green foliage and climbing limb.
No mauling of shade-makers and wind-shakers.
No abuse of fruit-bearers and dream-catchers.
There should be a law:
No chopping and chipping.
No axing of sap-runners and dirt-catchers.
A hider of seekers,
Guardian, sentinel, standing at attention.
I am not a tree hugger per se, but there is a certain sadness to see
oxygen-givers and long-livers
hacked down for who knows what.
Plant a tree, not a parking lot!
(Upon the “murder” of two beautiful trees!)
Lilacs are blooming, wind is blowing, I am sneezing, and the swallowtails are back!
. . . well, it might be an overreaction!
It’s like déjà-done this kind of thing—walked this path before, spouted this script before, destined to repeat over again
attachments and letting go,
hoping and hurting,
again and again,
pushing my rock to the crest only for it to slide back.
Is this punishment for choices made or just the way of things in this place?
Perhaps it’s just part of the deal, so we keep going,
trying to find our way out.