Mist the Oak Tree by wabberjocky
For my old dog who loves his job herding deer from garden back to woods
For the deer, silent shadows moving between trunks at dusk, feeding on acorns
For the acorns that grow into sturdy oaks with roots like armor around the chuck-wills burrow
For the the branches that provide a jungle gym for energetic squirrels to climb toward the sky
For the sky that sends the rains back to the canopy of leaves and the shelter of oakwood
For the leaves that paint blue mountains in shades of gold and orange in the fall
Because the veil was torn from my eyes in those years the loggers came
Because the whine of logging saws at dawn drowned out the birds
Because day after day they ripped through hardwoods, whittling hundreds of acres down to fifteen
Because they cut, they ripped, they burned, they sent crop dusters spraying herbicides to insure the oak would not grow back
Because rain without the filtering watershed carries the poison into my well
Because replanting with pine means they can log more often, means hardwood forests disappear, means autumn disappears
Because the chuck-wills don't sing here anymore
Modifying habits might modify their habits
Obedience to a conscience that insists I do something...anything
Those are the reasons I read E
What are yours?
This post was written in response to the Three Word Wednesday Prompt. Click that link and check out what other participants wrote.
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