On cutting trees…..

 

 

The fatal blow….

The squirrel ran on your boughs
Scurrying for the hidden nuts..
The creepers entwined on your mighty trunk
Were they they supporting you, or you them?
The sun filtered through your leaves
Casting beams on the dust beneath and on my face too.

Yet today morning as I watch you..
A sigh pulls my soul beneath.
Alas, the squirrel seems to have deserted you.
And white tears streak your tardy soul..
Leaving stains that never shall fade
As I gaze at you in sympathy, nay empathy..
I can feel your soul imploring me to think..
What gross sin did you do?
To suffer this gory fate, my dear?

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