Upon this cozy couch I sit.
It’s here the verses, I have writ
Flow forth from my creative grunting,
...
Sitting, now, on my garden bench,
relaxing, resting,
no longer toiling.
Quietly sitting,
...
I heard the pine trees screaming,
unmistakable, mournful and shrill.
The roar of the saws was awful,
and I prayed for the trees they’d kill.
...