from the book Walking With Trees*
by P. R. Lowe
Desensitized, euthanized; we stumble,
we plunder running cedar for our mantlepiece
and find little peace in it’s dressing.
Pressing ever close to marauding
we are applauding our own demise;
congruently, we cry and wonder why we die
We lament and sigh at our condition,
the perdition in our soul removed from out focus.
We fancy hocus-pocus over what is real
and misconstrue the signs.
Designs are in place.
The trees grace us still,
and their will far outweighs our angst.
*Walking With Trees is available on line from book sellers such as Amazon