Clear Felling

I can hear the dozers in the distance, droning across another mountain top. Someone needs one hundred ton of wood-chips, so dozer droning never seems to stop. I can hear the chainsaw in the distance, trimming down logs to load another truck. Someone needs one hundred ton of wood-chips; another mountain has run out of luck. I can hear the log truck in the distance, carting another load down to the mill. Someone needs one hundred ton of wood-chips from somewhere now with nothing left to kill. It’s heartbreaking to see this clear felling, but the the scar is seeded with blue gum, and in time when they reach their potential, once again I will hear the dozers come. I can hear the dozers in the distance, droning across another mountain top. Someone needs one hundred ton of wood-chips, so dozer droning never seems to stop.