Broken summer twigs litter
the ground in crunchy brown and grey
leaves and sheaths of golden bark
cover the scape of autumn day
Over mountains and rainclouds high
birds of prey and vantage fly
a gentle wind , a gush through trees
flows like water, blows like breeze
When the sun goes down at dusk
it kisses its third favorite child goodnight;
it tiptoes out in deliberate haste
and gently switches off the light
and gently switches off the light
The forest listens to the distant hum,
of a 2 stroke engine buzzing away,
of a 2 stroke engine buzzing away,
like a monster in a faraway closet,
which prowls at night and sleeps by day
which prowls at night and sleeps by day
The forest is filled with anguished cries
of logs that were trees when in their prime,
waiting despairingly for that dusk to arrive,
of logs that were trees when in their prime,
waiting despairingly for that dusk to arrive,
when the sun goes down, for one last time
