Sunday, February 10, 2013

Our Sycamores ... for John and Chuckie

"They cut them all down."
I read his words
          and somehow touch
His aching.

Quiet life of another plateau
Sturdy reminders of the promise-
We can survive here.

I wonder what they felt
          touched by greed and
          spinning links.

Knowing, I suspect,
The end
Was coming, long before
Michael told me,
Doff told him.

Stately white,
Our kind will miss
The dignity.
No one will agree
where is a good place
to replant.
We fail another test.

Part of us all,
I should have
paid my respects,
From across the crooked
Oiled road,
or from across the
Mountain Ranges,

They fell.

Before the civilization
takes another bite,
and locks. 

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