I walk down the tree-lined street

The brittle leaves rustling underfoot

Their faded glory being ground to dust

Under the weight of many passing feet


The council do not see the beauty of the trees

They see an obstruction to communication

And a blockage to top-floor views.

They come in with their saws

And send the wood chips flying.


I walk down the street

And the stumps and amputated

Trunks are stunted growths

Along the sidewalk.

I cry silently for their pain


I walk down the street

With the moon's brilliant light

Falling on my hair

The wind is singing through

Ghostly leaves

Which rustle,

And blow the phantom leaf skeletons

Along the sidewalk.


I stand and stare up into the boughs

Of the trees which were sacrificed;

Who were chopped and mutilated

For the progress of Man,

And I weep for their pain.