Grieving Trees
A God-awful sound
as a tree is cut down,
a horrible vision to see,
The slicing of saw
as the branches withdraw,
has broken the spirit in me.
Yes, there’s a reason,
there’s one every season,
but that is no solace for grief.
Twigs are collected.
The shredder’s directed,
ignoring the burnished-red leaf.
I pause in salute,
this sad graveyard, acute.
Destruction cannot be undone.
But hopeful one day
there’ll be new buds at play,
New birth that will bask in the sun.
Paula Antonello Moore, poetry. Copyright: Tuesday, October 16, 2018.
Image: Grieving Trees by P.A. Moore.
So playful and profound. Really – I love how you wove those two together. It truly IS a sad thing to lose a tree that took so long to nurture and grow. Good job Paula 🙂