“Shut up”, screams trees: a deafening tap on
One’s Back. “You’ve stepped on twigs! You’ll wake us up!”
One looks around the ground for sounds, but none.
None, but a branch, the leaves, and a plastic cup.
“Who screamed?” you ask, for hope of company,
But fear remains, as silent screams tend to
Cause. Revel in your solidarity,
For you are friends to trees, like they to you.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” scream trees, over
And over, and over again with force 
And fear and pride that keeps falling lower 
And lower until you and they divorce.
The trees do not welcome you to their home,
One’s noise could break their ears, as we should know.

​

The war begins between the noise of man
And tree. A war that does not end in blood.
No man, nor tree, is slain within these woods,
But do not wake up the trees, if you can.
For they will whoop! And shriek! And clamour an
Ancient tale of man’s battle for wood.
Man takes its flesh to make what man should: 
 A desk; some bowls; and some prized ceiling fans. 
The trees must watch their skin and children burned 
To warm someone who has not even earned
a thousand years of knowledge in their heads.
And what have we, as men, begun to learn
In these ritualistic games we’ve lead?
Not one small thing from all the books we’ve read.

​

“Shut up!” Shouts man, back at the screaming trees
Who won’t accept the fate that we bestow
Upon their lives. “You give us knives! And cheese
Boards of the highest value that I know!
How can you be ungrateful for the life 
that we give thee in place of great God’s world?”
The tree’s scream back, “We want to live a life
that is of our accord!” Their branches curled,
Not a moment later – and then they died.
And so ended the war that man had tried
To win so that our race could read and write
But we had not seen that trees would fight.

And so, man learned that when trees wake in pain
From noise, then we shall not read books again.