Laments Upon The Autumn Wind Poem by David Lacey

Uprooted the dryads palace is cast upon the flames
That flicker in keeping warm the mansion upon the hill.
The old folk upon the green re-embrace the Joys of youth
Still they weep as England hath been stripped of her forests deep
No longer doth Avalon sleep in a silent splendour.
Up in smoke burn ancient Oaks as tears form upon my cheeks
More so each day we weaken the strength of our mother with
Insistent exploitation of resources. Fifteen fires burn a constant
Lighting the descent into desire. See beyond the vision ideal.
Make real the way you feel, weep for the dryads sleepless,
Cast as they are amidst the nightmare from their kingdom.
I hear laments upon the autumn wind, can you hear them singing?