To the lumberjack:
Why do you persist? Entropy will catch you.
You are a being of death, all you ever do
Is kill. Another tree, another splotch of green, another forest.
Maybe you’ll catch yourself, and plant something
In this forsaken place you’ve made.

To the gardener:
You conjure beauty that falls within a week, like
A necromancer, raising those that are destined to die again.
Another rose, another daisy, another five-pound bag
Of fertilizer, to pour into the Earth and choke life that watches from lakes.
Entropy will catch you, one day there won’t be another bag.

To the rancher:
Your cattle will graze in this land you’ve
Claimed. Yours. Not shared.
Entropy will catch you, on that dusty plain of
Death. Where yellowed blades are shattered
Into paste by absent-minded mouths.
One day, maybe there will be less mouths
And Nature can breathe again.