|
Silver maples, which
grow fast through rock and clay,
bringing sweet shade,
and sweeter birds,
red buds against bleached sky,
greeting spring
with a leafy shout,
turning to gold and yellow as
frost raids across
the Blue Mountain.
Silver maples
shelter us from grime
falling from manufacturing
skies, our yard
15 degrees cooler
than the hottest dog
day, & how they dance
in storms lifting
their arms when
surprised by thunder.
I pick up sticks weekly,
raining down without a
by-your-leave, a "please"
or "thank-you."
I rake leaves
and lug them to compost
and curb,
but, guess what?
Trees aren’t dirty.
Mines, chemical plants,
spewing coal toxins,
the Exxon Valdez,
barrel burning plastic,
throwing cups, toys,
bottles, bags
made of petrochemicals
that will last a thousand
years from racing gluttonous
cars, & sometimes laden diapers,
with a butts and beer can
finale--Now that’s
what I call
“Dirty.”
|
Share
Print
Save
Follow
was associated with man-made stuff, not nature's gift the tree.
-gene.
I'd much rather have a "dirty tree" than all of the pollutants determined to wipe out every bit of God's creation ... sad. I love trees, and the startling imagery you pen them with - well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Our friends the old oaks, the sycamores and dogwoods, the tender pines, the somber maples, the tearful willows, the riverbed misshapen draped in Spanish moss.
And, we entertain them with the greatest enemies the toxins and wastes that threaten to destroy them - while they remain steadfast and true to us throughout time.
Luckily, they are heartier than our lack of resolve.
Thank you, ~Donna.