The Death of a Tree

and the Meeting of a Black Man in the

Darkness as the Pathway smudges

over.

It is better to Cross at the crossing

under the Light of a Belisha Beacon

than to be in the Pathway of a Driver,

Who is Led by the Winds of a

Monsoon Night.

Keep to the Pathways, walk around the

Smells of the Broken Branches

& let the Black Fear rise inside

you to be Watched.

Missed out a whole Page.....?

On the Death of Trees -

Two recent i Remember

So Tragic -

Sensitive, Tall, Straight and Good,

the Trees Leaves Whisper their Song

in the Wind

When one of them Dies

Chopped up, arms and legs in a Machine

- Twurling, Turning

Churning around in the late Autumn

Darkness of a Saturday Night.

Born Upwards

Roots in the Air

isn't there

A Way to Save a Tree and its Roots?

So long a Voice Speaking through the

Stars

and the Years

& all it gains with last Breath -

Is, My love for a second.