Trees In The Traffic Island Poem by Sibghatullah Khan

Standing in a straight obedient line,
all green smoked pale grey,
they are so different-
unlike those wild feisty fellas in the woods
mischievously growing like boys, moving
in all directions to mock manners, laughing
through inflated lungs.

Hardly breathing, these unlikey trees
grow respectfully in cages like slaves.
Afraid of the trimmer's huge shears,
they lie low and don't step beyond the kerb.
billboards of civilization,
these dwarfs cut to appropriate shape
are just meant to please.

Earth breathes hard when trees fall in:
Fancy this talk of her growing heat,
and warnings of warming!
Watch this jerry-built jungle grow
and then see these chains
around trees and flowers
trained to entertain!