Where have all the Green Trees Gone?

Robin Hood thieves from the woodlands, for seemingly meaningful greenery, and rather mysterious scenery to sell at garden nurseries. Jack axes the canopies: veneers to go on vanities. And the lavish sunlit leaves are fading, and falling. Pragmatic greed smothers silent cries, of felled trees, gruesomely shrugs over carnage. Emptiness sweeps into grey-gaps. We ache for beauty… remembered, imagined, unseen.