Trees and Death

The car died, and I listened to the world—
The whining cry of a chainsaw in the distance,
The soft fretful motions of trees and the wind no
Longer audible to my ears. Somewhere, a tree was

Felled, and it died, too, in that silent moment. I could
Never understand why—why trees were cut down, why
Hope and men lost their vigor with age, why this whole
Planet existed in such a lost, chaotic mood, why there was

Hatred. From the sky, the crystalline flakes of snow
Tumbled forth in silent reverie, touching outstretched necks
With a flinch of ice. Somewhere, behind that bleating saw,
There were cries of pain. And the snowflakes fell away into that

Dark blaze of night. The road whispered of sodden tires,
Screeched moments of stupidity. Damp leaves, bright with
Fall, lay crushed upon the ground, forgotten by the feet that
Tread upon them, their colors beaten to a brown-gray pulp.