Whispers Of The Trees

Tall branches with fingers Pointing menacingly skywards. In the summer they point Accusingly at the clear blue 50 degree Heatwave overhead. They are begging for water. In the autumn they point at the Wind and rain, more now than Ever before. Fingers light up as Lightning flashes and torrential Rain pours down as water climbs Up their trunk in flood. Their craggy black fingers point In the winter as impenetrable cold Grips the Earth and icy rain falls. High winds snap some of their Fingers blowing them to oblivion. The wind shouting ‘climate change.' Spring brings little respite as winter Has overstayed its welcome and Continues gripping the Earth. Black fingers now wag angrily. The trees are stressed and their Leaves are late coming. Other branches are pointing at Mankind in despair accusingly, Painfully, their stress palpable. ‘What have you done' they whisper In the breeze at Mankind, ‘you are Destroying us, and the Earth.'