More Forms of Life

Tops cut like a heart shape to let power lines through

The tree looks like a parody of Valentine’s Day

And with its leaves all pinkish-orange, they drop

As if in protest of the defacement, the shame

The injury of its pride in being a grand, aged oak.

But this, our city, our world, with no forewarning

That inch-by-inch it carries off nature’s beauty

Disregarding the voices of those who honor our world

And though a few more make noise and shout

We are like the Whos in Whoville, being so ignored

So that technology reigns, so that cookie-cutter suburbs

With their muted colors and life can be the norm.

But you decide which has the greater merit

For maintaining a quality of life, remembering

That there are more forms of life on the planet

Than just inhumanity.