The Trees
The earth, at last, is born anew, the trees again are green.
The life that hid from ice and death can once again be seen.
Be careful where you stick your nose, to save your sense of smell,
For spring has come, with poison breath, to vandalize your health.
The trees endure the summer heat that burns their wilting leaves.
The water that infects the ears has stained the air we breathe.
Like the stench of fluids, masked by chemicals and cheer,
The putrid bliss of ignorance is strong this time of year.
The trees, they shiver out of fear as Earth begins to shed.
The frosty breath of yesteryear, the season of the dead,
Fills the lungs of passersby with pumpkin spice and rot,
But under old Jack’s watchful eye, to worry you need not.
The naked trees, without their leaves, have nothing left to bear.
Commercial candy-coated greed chokes all who breathe the air.
Nostalgic scents of burning yule and magic glaze the earth,
As winter’s youthful innocence is eaten by the church.
As the trees go back to sleep, the world turns black and white.
They have no need for counting sheep before they say goodnight.
In need of rest, they make their nests in warm blankets of snow,
But come the time for them to rise, the trees are still out cold.
