Quiet Forests
See the trees around us die.
Wind blows and they mutely cry.
By roadsides where they once gave shade,
bare ugliness is all that’s made.
From insect wild or too much man,
in palliative state they naked stand.
Quiet forests of dead trees,
sway not with the subtle breeze.
Once attracting lightning’s rod,
were of their beauty, quickly robbed.
Touch them and have firewood,
to feed the hearth as kindling should.
It grieves the sight, this tree graveyard,
a blight upon this Earth that’s scarred.
3/24/22
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
6/18/2022
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2022
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