Rainforest Fall

Be gone are the flowers

Be gone are the springs

We witness the cutting

Soon the birds will cease to sing

The smell of the jungle

Fresh sodden earth under our feet

The quiver of the leaves,

as the raindrops once would beat.

Be gone are the flowers

Be gone are the trees

We witness the destruction

The monkeys cease to tease

The whine echoes out, waiting to hear the pound

The crash of old man bark,

as he falls upon the ground.

Be gone are the flowers

Be gone are the springs

We witness our mistake

Too late, the birds no longer sing

The smell of palm oil plantations

Dry, dusty earth now under our feet

The rumble of the trucks

as they shake the gravel street.

Gone are the flowers

Gone are the springs

And gone are the trees.