I Would Have Kept the Trees

When I walk past the hedgerow
and glance near my feet at the sandy piles,
it could be easy to forget
that life once rooted itself here.

I look at the holes now filled
and think: this is how it happens;
this is how sacred things disappear.

The outstretched arms that birds once perched upon,
the dappled shade cast by its leaves;
the earthworms and beetles,
the ants and the breeze
that once
moved through it.

All this
no longer
is.

Instead, there’s a parking lot with a clearer view
of strip mall and road,
painted yellow stripes,
ordered and marching ahead.

I would have kept the trees.

There’s nothing in the world like a good tree hug!

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