The Word From The Trees. Poem by Peter Vealey

All the places I`ve seen,
All their hopes gone, wiped clean.
The word from the trees.
The distant hope,
Brought me some relief
On the day we heard
The virus had entered a closed tunnel.
Dared for a lull in the latest
"War to end wars"
"All these places I've seen, "
All these delusional dreams.
Ran me back inexorably
To the punishing idyll,
Of my "Scream"
The wood from the trees,
Lays wasted, waiting
For representation.
At the arms
Of the "latest armageddon.".