I don't like it when they saw down trees. The chainsaw cries in reluctance because it is forced to kill. And then, all is silent as life in and on the tree ends. The wind blows and fetches nothing but silt. It does not sing - there are no baby swallows that cry, nor sunbirds that flitter. Nor squirrels or macaques that play amongst the trees.
No leaves to even rustle. And I grieve with the chainsaw for all the younglings who fall with the tree. My heart beats in exasperation.
How long more till the end of this? Sometimes I really feel that my heart cannot take it. Yet somehow, I always manage to.
No comments:
Post a Comment