Conversation with a Squirrel

Hullo, I say to thee young squirrel.
Have yourself a jolly old, enjoyable time.
That you would scamper about like no mime.
Collecting nuts for Winter's coming of ice and indoor mice!
Make your nest large and be mindful of those thieving raccoons.
Make your bed under the full, bright, midnight moon.

I am back, and it is spring again!
The flowers bloom, you must get up!
You must share your humble home with these men!
Even though they chop it down without the quickest of thoughts.
What evil toil we have brought upon you, are minds have not caught.
Seeing through your eyes, I see what would have been a wonderful meadow.
But the confines of man have brought you something....a ghetto.

Is this what happens?
That the forest would be ripped away?
Only to expose bare rock, and grimy, gritty clay?
I do believe the Earth doe not enjoy this, not one bit.
It would be better if we were left to our caves, I admit.
But that must not happen, for you and I both know what God has said.
That man must take dominion over the Earth. But still we leave the trees dead?

They used to whisper of stories.
Stories of honor and loyalty and glory.
But not now, for men have used them for house chow.
But you, you can still hear them, only you can hear their cries.
It must be agony, for you must hear of the tree that slowly dies.
Yet still you are happy. Like a shield against a thousand blows.
Now, you doze...