I am three days behind…or two. Ah, well. This poem was inspired by Mary Oliver’s “Watering the Stones.”
New neighbors tear their trees down
healthy, beautiful shade trees
toppled. The saws grind as angry bees,
whining through morning.
What lives did the trees see?
How many years standing sentinel?
Children aloft on its young branches
until it stood too mighty and tall.
Why is our first inclination
to conquer everything?