And plan my attack.
Heavy of heart I climb the hill.
The sun is up
My gloves are on
Yet I would stay my hand
…..Forever.
A hundred years
And more
The giant pine has towered
Over this sandscaped valley.
Uncounted winds have pulled
Storms have raged
Suns have baked
To dissolve its tremendous strength.
Who then am I,
A mere man,
To do this deed?
The metal bites deep,
Each strike a mortal blow
That wounds my soul
Makes my heart and arms ache.
Tears steal from my eye
As I strip the world
Of its essence
Chip….by….chip.
Once down and done
With muscles quivering and tears spent
I sit in my private hell
Saddened by my part in this.
Until I see
The first of its seedlings
Thrusting bravely
Into the next century.
Copyright © 1993- Marty Vandermolen - All Rights Reserved
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