Today I saw with my own eyes,
absurd, nauseating disgrace of the lopping
of splendidly healthy branches.
So tall, such magnificence of this Silver Birch
at 68 along the street, weeping pools of rising sap.
It is weeping I tell you
and cannot be stopped…
Can we be stopped, we who create carnage?
I weep for Birch and Beasts
and the Waking Up of us all.