I walk among the silent trees
Like monks who are obedient
Occasionally whispering a leaf
Hinting that they are not asleep
For they are wise to man
Their children, growing green in the wind
Flutter to escape the womb
With clingy sticky stems
The womb is not so readily left
Besides, where would they go?
I wonder what these trees would say
Of man’s stewardship here
Some trunks bear witness
To the ravaging of landscapes
And of friends decapitated
How steadfast these trees
A testament to endurance
They will remain on guard
Their children released
To quietly replenish what was taken
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