The Trickery Of Trees Poem by sharon Genade

Don't be fooled by the stoic stance of a willow for it weeps more than you know,
All clustered around in randomness, it is not,
Roots cloistered in confusion, I think not,
Networking and pulsating, whispering on the breeze of pheromones,
We chase the light and consume in excess, drama unfurling in spectacular grace,
Roots grappling underfoot to reach majestic wonder,
Mothers and saplings nurtured in sweetness and heading warnings of danger, we talk to each other,
We listen and feel each other in sacred kinship in a mired creation of wonder,
We have heard your laconic, noiseless screams of abandonment of self and nature,
We feel the rippling tremor of fear in the underlying belly of our mother,
It spurts forth of fire and lava, a world on fire,
We hear the pleading cries of our children, frightened for their future, falling on deaf grown up ears,
Do not be fooled by the trickery of trees,
We stand astute in our awareness of our surroundings,
We are resolute and grounded in our muddy depths,
Waiting for the voice of one small child to be finally heard at all.