Trees

When the trees are in trouble, so are we. We must speak out to help our good old friends.

                      Trees



Towering monsters, good old trees

Waved their branches in the breeze

Each one stretching very high

Just to reach the clear blue sky



Down below where wild beasts roamed

and the streams gurgled and foamed

Massive root stocks crawl along

Old and twisted, stiff and strong



Some had stood a thousand years

Gently waving with out fears

Builders build but with out harm

And the good man made his farm



Man and nature dwelled in peace

Storms and rough winds passed with ease

Stinch and odors disappeared

When these good trees cleaned the air



Thoughtless men have come to town

Felling, clearing, causing harm

So these old friends we must save

For their plight is very grave