War
Drops of sunlight between the branches, wetting the swaying grass – Blood makes a collage of it, The high soprano of war .
The trees in the distance, tall, protect everything beneath it – Man makes a war of it, felling more with every burst in energy.
The people in the villages, quiet, absorbed in their farming – Man makes a war of it, killing more with every political tragedy.
The children in the stream, play loudly and happily- Man makes a war of it, polluting the water with mercurian mirth.
The ground, wet with rain, smells fresh, desirable – Man makes a war of it, Conquest to own it all.
Drops of sunlight between the branches, wetting the swaying grass – Blood makes a collage of it, The high soprano of war .