Another child of our mother crashes to the ground,
millions die in the death throws of one giant.
Birds circle in a space they once roosted,
searching for their young in a place they thought safe
Surviving mammals limp from the wreckage,
many more crushed under the massive carcass.
Insects by the million scurry amongst the debris,
some finding sanctuary among broken boughs.
The machines descend upon their fallen prey,
cutting and biting and gnawing the unwanted.
Leaving behind great mounds of boughs,
removing the irreplaceable, that was once a home.
Millions more die in this two minute dance,
death dealt quickly by blade or crusher.
Where once dwelt nature in her raw beauty,
you will see pyres and the ashes of the dead.
©2010 Trevor Litchfield
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