The Heart of the Forest

The heart of the forest runs cold some days,
when death and destruction tread its ways.
The roar of the dozer, the scream of the saw;
the ravenous beast that always wants more
and it’s only the folk who are of the trees
can return the forest to a state of ease.
So try as they may to bring an end about,
they’ll never win if the Greenies stay stout.
True to the forest till the end of days;
true to the paths that are Gaia’s clear ways.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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