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 .