Tree Surgery

by November 13, 2017 0 comments

You butchered us
along the stone wall
we now stand
flagrant, desolate.
Exposed we’re vulnerable
to October rain,
cleansing air, a clearing
for the sun
the rays poke through
gaps under the rainbow.
War veterans with missing limbs,
our symmetry askew,
never to align again.
Our foliage hangs,
Branches hacked
and splintered,
sap in odourless blobs,
our roots retract in disgust
at the clumsy oaf,
his arms swinging with the bowsaw
aping descendants
desperate for an improved vista.

– Lorraine Carey

editors note:

Priorities askew; destroying view for view. – mh clay

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