| Tree Creaking in the Wind |
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| Poem written by Andrew Rowell. | |
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Somewhere in a forest, a tree creaks in the wind, A breeze blows by, and the tree sways and bends. And in that very forest, a stream runs down a hill. Up strolls a deer, who slowly drinks his fill. And in the middle of that forest, a mountain sits so still. Housing a nest of eagles, their hunting cries so shrill. But man then comes traveling, completely free of wits. He destroys the lovely monument. The mountain no longer sits. And still comes man, with weapons and with guns. He builds a wall of concrete. The stream no longer runs. And somewhere in a forest, stands that tall, strong antique. An axe is swiftly swung. The tree no longer creaks. |
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