In my dreams the trees can run:
They flee before the chainsaws come,
No more standing brave and rigid,
Holding their breath in stoic silences
While Killers of Life cut them off at the knees
And convert them to resources.
In my dreams the trees can run:
They hide like Jews in basements and cellars
while Killers of Life march the streets
With beady eyes scouring windows for
brief flashes of green
They hide a short time huddled together
until the world is safe,
And the Era of the Killers is over.
In my dreams the trees can run:
And the Killers of Life cut each other to pieces.

***