May 18, 2011
Blown away and left in the dust,
Like leaves soaring past, the telltale sounds
Of crunching, scraping, and crackling
Show us how fragile life is.

But those trees that stand in the way
In the way of houses, factories, roads
To be paved, to grind out the things
That sustain us.

Nature is a paradox, both beautiful
And bothersome
There’s a fork in the road:
To treasure or to destroy
And the decision’s up to us.

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