Waning Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Waning

Years are past
Nothing's last
Many trees turned to trunks
Leaf, branch, left the bough
Man, donkey, their helpers
Took timbers; left for town
Pond dried, nightingales
Departed; and so did flowers
Barren land, rocks and sand
Dawn to dust; heated plains
Then came rain to no home
Homeless, poor to the bone
Straight and cunning
Strange kept running
Saw its race
To no place
A homeless
And in race
Became team
Made streams
In millions; a big flood
The farms were overrun
Tree, bush and the crops
Destroyed; broke hearts
Slandered were many
Strangers with family
Times gone; decades
I cry shout and swear
And the words
Surely profane

"Stupidest, is man kind
Saw in hand sitting cuts
Exact branch he sits on
Unaware, he falls, dies"