Dark Night Of The Trees Poem by Sheena Blackhall
Dark Night Of The Trees
Dark night of the trees
Truncated casualties lie stretchered in B & Q.
No room here for owls to stretch their whirring wings,
No room here for stags to strip their antlers clean,
Everything passed by planners, joiners, planers,
In keeping with forestry needs, trees must be culled.
There have, however been sightings of
The Great God Pan in newly erected suburbs.
Men say, he is carrying an axe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 5:58:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
