A Fir Trees Perspective
Color me Douglas Fir Green;
I feel so feathery-branched.
My constitution is supreme;
My core competes with oaks.
I was built to last and stand tall;
I cannot say as well of cousin spruce.
Taken for granted;
the human species, mows me down;
I become boxes for habitation.
My strength is a human weakness;
Over time, I’ll disappear,
I must to shelter my nemesis.
The human species uses my kind;
we can’t defend against
their growling weapons.
Humans build deadly weapons,
They’ll eat right through my soul;
I am only a defenseless tree.
12-28-19
I am a tree Poetry Contest
Delilah Ventura
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2019
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