the loaded 18 wheeler
grinds to a halt beside me
i swear i can hear
groans coming from the great bleeding cargo
strapped tightly to its back
stately oaks with such
dignity, sliced down long before their time
a screaming testament
to how we treat the blood of our earth
there is a lonely piece
of land left back there somewhere
with underground roots
on their way to nowhere
our land has been raped of shelter and food
all of the trees in the
forest are weeping silently
as they watch their
fallen comrades roll by
Sandra Hazley
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