I stood on the hilltop watching the men below,
Like an army of ants with their machines roaring and smoking,
Tearing up the land,
To build a shopping mall.
There was one small woods left in this area,
And the men came with their machines,
Bulldozing the trees and ripping up the roots,
To build another office building.
A peaceful stream meandered along babbling quietly.
Frogs played in the cattails, birds and animals came to drink.
Then the men came with their machines,
To build a housing tract.
The ancient trees watched the hurrying seasons pass by,
Birds and animals lived in their branches and among their roots,
Then the men came with their machines,
To feed a paper mill.
A torch was touched to another rain forest,
The animal inhabitants ran in fear of the licking flames,
Some, moving too slowly died in the flames,
To clear the land for another farm.
My soul cries out each time another bit of nature is destroyed,
How can my fellow men be so short sighted?
For when the last of nature dies,
Men will die.
© 1999 Charles H. Grooms