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ww on bull

How do you like my Holiday tree with so many golden balls…a natural and real tree. To all you readers who, after reading my Wordsworth! Stop the Bulldozer! book, began to use trees whose roots are still in rich healthy soil, thank you for keeping our planet green. To you, too, who have stopped cutting down trees. Wait, there’s more. See my bulldozer poem under my tree.

Ww's tree

The Bulldozer

there was place I sat and dreamed

to music played in my concert grove

 

branches rubbed against branches

coconuts dropped to the ground…

vines snaked and squeaked their way

seeking the hot noon sun.

 

frilly fronds danced the wind

lacy limbs brushed their leaves…

sparrows, mynahs spattered notes

low c’s, high c’s and in-between.

 

a place for cellos, violins

trombones, tubas, crashing  brass…

flutes, piccolos, clarinets ,too

a symphony of purest sound.

 

up and down the scale

notes played every key…

in this place I called my grove

until the monster came.

 

he gobbled up notes

oh, what a hungry beast…

he ate and ate, grunted and groaned

until there was nothing left

nothing at all.

from: Wordsworth! Stop the Bulldozer!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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