Where do the birds go?
A short poem
Where do the birds go,
When their tree gets cut down,
When their home disappears,
For a car port.
Where do the birds go,
When their gathering place vanishes,
From chainsaws and diggers,
Powered by men under orders.
Where do the birds go,
Robin, goldfinch, blackbirds and wrens,
The jays and the longtails
Where are you my friends?
A couple of days ago I witnessed a violent destruction of a tree in the garden in the house next door to me which is being developed.
The tree which I never really identified as it was a sprawling laurel type bush but not a laurel, was a real gathering place for so many birds in the hood, birds I have watched coming in and out of over the years.
It took two men in a digger and with chainsaws most of a day to remove it.
And it was gone just like that.
I have felt very sad all week.
So I wrote a poem.