Little Birch and the Last Winter’s Morn
On a cold and frosty morning as the winter sun was dawning
A loud clamour was heard a calling through the icy biting air;
Asked a slender young birch sapling to a squirrel whose paws were grappling
Up her trunk “What’s that sound?” “It’s the humans, they just don’t care…”
“About the sanctity of morning, I’m afraid it is a warning!”
And his little tail flicked to and fro as his eyes began to flare.
“It sounds like they are coming…” as they both then heard a humming,
“Oh squirrel, what to do?” “Be as humans - they don’t care!”
“I must depart my dearest birch” said squirrel from his perch
And so forth his body lurched as he ran to find his lair.
Still the humming became stronger as the morn grew ever longer,
“Oh to walk just like the humans do, without a single care…”
The young birch surely mused, as the atmosphere infused
Within her supple boughs a fear and she whispered up a prayer.
But no answer was received for the sound was not relieved
And nor did she believe in human kindness without care.
She’d heard many harrowing stories about their endless quest for glory
From the creatures of a forest which mankind had just laid bare.
Devastation never seen wrought with wicked iron machines
As the humans did careen through the land without a single care.
And once a hawk alighted on her branches quite delighted
With rabbit plump held in his claws and shifting sideways glare.
“Tis easy” so he sneered “to hunt where the land is cleared”
And he smiled slyly like the humans do “I do not think they care.”
Radiant she glistened with dew the sunlight christened
So intently did she listen the forest’s stubborn little heir.
But the sound it was now groaning and breaking up the loaming
Came humans with tools droning as if not a soul would care.
But the birch did stand her ground with annihilation all around,
A man looked at her and frowned with a dark and heartless stare.
The other though was younger, his demeanour lacked the hunger;
His gaze softened as he looked at her. Perhaps this human cared?
“Dad just this one to go, do you think we should forego,
Maybe leave her just to grow...?” the younger one did share.
But the older man’s face hardened as he quipped “I beg your pardon!
Forget your hippy dreams my son; it’s a tree, who bloody cares?!"
edit on 3/8/2012 by 1littlewolf because: spelling