Even the bulldozer reclines
to honor the divine
on this good day. So the trees
live to see another breeze;
to poke
another cloud as the kookaburras
share another joke
upon their sieve of leaves.
When the reprieve
is over, there will be no more trees
in the sky; no more wings;
nor lizards, snakes, nor peace
upon the earth. Just tires and
shoes and streets.
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