Thoughts of Green

I hear the trees' whispering

Was it dread, was it hate, I'm not quite sure.

Their swaying leaves're like quivering

Perhaps fear, perhaps the cold, we'll never know.

Their trunks have somehow wrinkled less,

No stress, or maybe they're not gaining age,

The world losing its floral dress,

Concrete, metal bars, where's real beauty.

I'm not quite sure... and we'll never know,

but if we never learn the answer,

there may be that time 

When we'll never be sure and never know.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The trees are kind. Man greed is the evil. I like the poem. Some mystery and questions in your words. Thank you my friend for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote