Trees

When I woke up that day it seemed normal
like the rest
I brushed my teeth, ate toast and got dressed
Put on my shoes, coat, hat and walked out the door
It was then I first noticed things weren’t quite the norm
I could hear an endless murmur
at first it was faint
I accredited it to my imagination and carried on my way
On leaving the paper shop
paper in hand
I noticed the sound was still there
louder, clearer and
it seemed to originate from the trees

I’m used to hearing stuff but this was quite distinct
Should I tell someone else?
But what might they think?
So I decided to investigate the noise on my own
after all
it sounded more like a chat than a moan
I figured the clearest place
to hear with ease
would be a place surrounded by trees
So I made my way
on a bus
to the woods
after discarding my paper
‘cause no news is good
as I approached the forest the sound became clearer
I could make out some words
as still I got nearer
By the time I was completely within
the trees
the sound became a din
‘excuse me please’
I timidly said to the trees
‘I can hear what you’re saying
can you put me at ease?
My education tells me
trees can’t speak
They grow, get cut down
and burnt for heat
Or get planted in lines to look nice and protect
Or grow wild and provide homes
when left to neglect’
‘indeed’ replied an oak
‘or so science says
but your ancestors used to listen instead
they understood that we were here first
we’re part of the life
part of the earth
we can help them to live
find food and shelter
everything was beautiful when we worked together
but humans became bigoted
“intelligent” and proud
with science and industry came humanity’s fall down
now they burn
consume
destroy all that they can
because it’s part of their new god’s master plan
a scheme to create uniform unhappiness
to live a life for money
no matter how crap it is
and forget that their home is a beautiful place
full of wonder and joy
not competition and disgrace
we trees are old
we’ve seen it all
our roots travel deep into the soil
the soul of our planet
we can feel it’s hurt
but to “civilization” this soul is just dirt
to be cleaned up and packaged
sold to some sucker
for more money to fuel the capitalist clutter
if everyone could remember how to listen to nature
the chance of survival for us all would be greater’