The trees are leaving;
lurched away;
heading magnetic north;
sap cooled
and cold.

The elms,
uproot themselves;
and go.

Shade is gone.
The house is warm less;
night prolonged.

I see birds laboring west
unclear and direction-less.

Nature's abandonment
is profound.

I see no humming bird
at the outside feeder
now for weeks.
A tragedy.

Sorrow is a hoof-less stag,
the stunted bud on the flowerless tree,
the wind that weeps.

The bad air is Grey Green

'Beware of Smart Apes
wielding intelligence
uncontrolled.'

Hope is the mutantcy
which may overcome Smart Ape Tendencies-
likely or
unlikely-
much depends
upon the answer
to the query.