They wither

Bent and broken

Dying, lonely

God has spoken

Decreed them gone

Eaten by acid rain

Slashed with machetes

Wood scarred with pain

Shriveled limbs and

Black leaves

Ghostly pale – gone

Slit by thieves

Rotting, wet, wood

Charcoal against

Wintry white devil-sky

Evil has been sensed

Cold and bitter, sighing slow

Frozen and freezing

Half-fallen down

Whipping winds teasing

They are dead

Half-buried in frost

No longer living

Dead trees have lost