TuAp7
Green grows
the grass
greeting the
great star
this mild
April morn.
No breeze
hinders
the morning
chorus –
the chirping
redhats
the screeching
bluejackets
the whistling
chickadees
the trilling
warblers ---
and suddenly
a gobbling
turkey
hidden in a
thicket
greets me –
“Good morn!”
Then, rudely
interrupting
roars an iron
beast
spewing toxins,
pushing,
gouging the earth
within the
cedar grove ---
the sounds of
groaning nature ---
splintering
wood,
crushing
branches,
the scent of
cedar blood
and upturned
earth
fills the
air.
One day it
might be
a welcome
fragrance,
this cedar
and dewy earth –
but today it
is
the stench of
death and an
audible,
odorous genocide
of countless
biomes.
For what? I
wonder.
agd 4.7.2020
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