A Million Trees in Mourning

A million trees are in mourning
Like Weeping Willows cry;
They wail in silence at an industry
That makes them fall and die.

They sacrifice their tall proud bodies
For fantasy, fiction, and facts;
They are the tools by which we read
And keep our brains intact.

But a million books in dark warehouses
Like slaves to corporate stores,
Have pages that were once proud trees
In skies where branches soared.

They’re now pre-packaged with slick covers
That would make a thinker wretch,
These words inscribed to distort the facts–
To conceal, omit, and stretch.

The souls of trees feel deeply betrayed
No longer standing in proud groves,
These trees are martyrs for Right-wing lies
While Sarah keeps “Going Rogue!”