The spruce that was your home
got cleared to make way for
a larger heli-pad,
replacing the leafy grove
with a concrete moonscape.
Now I watch you fly over Sobo's,
looking like a skinny matron
with a pocketbook tucked under your wing.
You perch, first here, then there,
trying out new hemlock and cedar spires,
surveying new vistas,
as unsettled as I am,
making yet another move
in my old age.
The trees are coming down
in Clayoquot Sound,
in the UNESCO biosphere reserve
where one would think
they'd be the most protected.
"Progress!" the voices cry.
"Development! You can't stop it."
But we can try.
These tree beings are our lungs,
we plead, we sigh. The planet is
melting; it is burning.
As entangled as you
in the fragility and unraveling
of everything I love
for Brendan's challenge at earthweal: Entanglement - with other species, with environmental collapse, with the natural world.