TREES In the city... The trees strain against the fences. We will grow here!

You will hack at us, Chop us down, Lop our branches; disturb our crown. We will resist; even if you desist, For we don't even know you are here. We are blind to your war. You keep emotional score. We have no knowledge or reference, To your data or science. If we did, we would scorn you for sure. Is it your carbon we capture? Make you safe from your Rapture? A credit you now buy and sell? We don't understand your interest in land. Bad management, we cannot tell. What will you do next? We are not perplexed. To save us you may raise the bar. Extract oil from our leaves, Our kind will not grieve, For we don't have a conscience so far. So we leave it to you, To decide what is true, As you seek to control nature's play. Created by her; evolved as it were, To deny or provide, either way. In the country... The trees stand tall. Quietly dreaming, With their limbs spread, Receiving, Enlightened instruction. James W. Barnes October 2011

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