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The Voice of The Wild
January 9, 2017
In the cool mist of a spring morning,
the earth’s child softly weeps.
“Why do you cry, my child,” the trees pry.
“Because the world is changing and I can no longer stop it,”
whimpers the child.
The fields of wheat and barley slowly retire
as concrete men rise from the ground to take their place.
Where the forest once slept, hotels and highrises reside,
swallowing the beauty of Mother Nature’s masterpiece.
“When the world is made of skyscrapers and street ways,
the people will realize that they cannot eat money,” whispers the trees.
© Eleanor J., McLean, VA
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This piece was written as a dialogue poem for my creative writing class. Thank you for reading.