Dear Trees,

Thank you for everything
you've done and tried to do.
It has been a good run, with
all of you lined up along the
path, watching and refreshing
the airs and eyes and skies with
your unleavened reds. You've 
put up with the cut down chop
up pulpit. You let yourselves 
become children's books about
cutting down beloved trees,
and didn't bark or bite at the
irony ink nor under the thumbs of
shelf-satisfied so-called owners.
Thanks. You made the land
a habitation, in addition to 
most of the habitations that
are the natural habitat of 
the naked animal who 
couldn't help but make 
hell a real place called
earth.