Ask a street-side tree…: A poem 

Does a tree have a soul? 

Do its silent unseen eyes roll? 

At the street’s corner, dusk in its age 

mellowed by time, or does it feel rage? 

Its numerous leaves feeling undone 

having lost their rights, for the city has won 

In the ballad of seasons, it is still patience’s bride 

Can it feel its resilience is its pride? 

That the city’s triumph has been its curse 

The voice of humanity has been its turn for the worse 

Its limbs are sheared to protect the street 

What grief does it feel in its vulnerable rooted feet? 

Does it miss the dance of the open country’s wind? 

That nature’s deal they cruelly did rescind 

In the gestures of a world where tears don’t flow 

for the wilderness that only dies and doesn’t regrow