Picks up the chainsaw does he,
The logger strays into the wood.
To cut an artless innocent tree,
His motive far from good.
As he approaches, the trees begin to weep,
Bidding adieu to their dearest mates.
Their roots cringe in the deep,
As they close in on Death’s gates.
The trees plead, beg to the wicked man
“Please spare us, don’t cut us down,
For we haven’t yet reached the end of our lifespan”.
But the logger only gives an icy frown.
He then pushes the button,
And comes the chainsaw to life.
He proceeds to hack them, the glutton,
And aggravates the human-nature strife.
He strikes the first blow,
As the tree writhes in agony and pain.
The logger wipes the perspiration from his brow,
And carries on in utter disdain.
The branch falls with mighty thud,
As does the nest of a young crow.
The spotted eggs crack in the brown mud,
Taking many lives in one go.
The logger then turns to the trunk,
And slices through with great might.
The tree’s hopes are all but sunk,
As its soul steps out of the light.
With hatred in his heart and evil in his eye,
The logger moves on and refuses to cease.
All the despairing trees wonder why,
The humans let them not live in peace.
Never mind if not tomorrow,
Someday, sometime to the humans will it strike,
That felling forests is a sorrow,
For trees and humans all alike.
– Gaurav Deshmukh
Pic Courtesy – Google Images.