Trees are alive. Do they mind being chopped, tapped for sap?
********************

whose that walking in these woods?
friars who wear dark brown hoods
sneaking in my neighborhood
don’t they know it isn’t good
to steal wood, peel off my bark
to be canvas for their art
to warm their frigid, cold heart?
have bark, will bite
I live … all right
quiver in fright

friends claim I’m a basket case
pull my roots up … to give chase
don’t care if these guys are chaste
it’s my body they’ll take, waste
my branches can’t be replaced
they chop others with such haste
don’t want to go to their place
wooden teeth sharp
(it is no lark)
splinter, bite, barf

why do they skin trees or chop?
except the maples who sop
syrupy saps, let it drop
where are the forestry cops?
they ought to pull out all stops
those barely growing just flop
I’ve cried so much … need a mop
I’m leering mean
dirty, unclean
my bite, bark cling

have bark, will bite
both day and night
stay out of sight
leave me … alright!