Hands Off
A beautiful landscape all clustered with trees
Among the bright flowers the buzzing of bees
A babbling brook and warm summer breeze
The frolic of beavers on the cool beach sand
The air that they breathe unscented by man
No human hands have touched this land
Look in the distance, what’s that bright gleam
Sun glinting off new shovels and axes of a ditch digging team
Man is coming to clear; then erect steel beam
Work is done at a feverish pace
The buyers are anxious to move into the place
The work now done has left on the site
A skyscraper shinning like a star in the night
But, the truth of this building is devastation widespread
Can’t find the brook; as it is now a dry bed
Old growth trees are cut down and dead
Birds have nowhere to give birth
Flowers are crushed under earth
Bees are unable to find pollen of worth
The beach is now a slab of concrete
Never again to bear the beavers feet
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