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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required >Most of the countryside you know. Was forests of tall trees you know. Then when men made a town. They cut all those tall trees down. Men did not then, plant any more. Used all those trees, now ignored. To build a house, still some you'll see, Painted black that wood do be. Unless, it is inside you know. Then its true colour it might show. Not as green leafed, would it show. If still alive, in forests, you know. As it is now inside town. The mantle you'll see, is surely brown. But not as brown as it would be. If still alive and called a tree. Now those forests are so bare. No longer filter dirty air. This is a fact it's everywhere. Not trees, I mean, just filthy air. Now organizations as they should. Are now planting lots of woods. Not for hunting, as in days of old. But for fresh air, so I am told. Now if I can't buy a house by the sea. One in a wood might do me. Surrounded by trees, so fair. And all that lovely fresh, clean air. The above poem was inspired by recent forest fires, but before the disaster in Canada. Where trees are grown in abundance, they are of course the main building material for properties. I often wonder why such towns and cities do not ring fence themselves by lakes and reservoirs. Not only to make fire breaks but so ample water was closely available for damping down in heat waves. Perhaps, a town planner poet, will read these notes and think, what a good idea. lol (The mad Author)<
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