Freedom For Tree-Doms
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We often find a shade under a tree, but sometimes it is the trees that seek a shade under our hands.
In the shade of our hands great trees rest
And in the midst of our circle many forests hide
Seeking relief from scorching greed
And the strong foul winds of menacing commerce.
Thickly they grow nourished by storms,
The storms of our words and deeds
That night and day stand with them.
The sweet birds sing to them
About an old tree now long gone
That one day woke to the terrors of a blade.
Valiantly did she stand her ground
Defending her right to be a tree for a while:
Not sawdust, not plywood, not firewood--
Just a happy green tree for a good while.
"Freedom for Tree-doms!" she cried out that day
To rouse trees and men alike
Against the terror of the cold steel blade.
But not a man, not a tree, rushed to her side
So alone she stood to fight her battle.
Alas, all she had for missiles were her pretty leaves,
Which in vain she hurled with a swing of her boughs
To drive the harsh blade from her mighty limbs.
Above the forest a little bird watched her struggle
end
As with flailing boughs she drowned
In the sea of green below
To lie quiet on the forest floor.
On her soft fallen leaves that night
Poachers crept while the world slept
And bore her away to humming mills
In a town far from the birds that wept.
Copyright © Agona Apell | Year Posted 2015
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