When The Bough Breaks-Trees Poem by Yvonne Rautenbach

There is a knife in the hand of a vicious breeze
I wonder did it murder the trees?
There is noise like acid and wasps in my head
Did they rattle my nerves until they were dead?
There is fluid enough for no plant to be found
And no roots to drink it nor anchor the ground
Where are the trees all sawn off and gone?
See a flat line horizon and no birds in song!
There is a knife in the hand of a vicious breeze
But it was not the wind that slaughtered the trees.