Poetry – There’s no room

There’s no room

Pruned trees in rows,

Furrows in rows,

Houses in rows,

Brows in furrows,

There’s no room.

Pesticide clouds,

Smoke clouds,

Particle clouds,

Mushroom clouds,

Clouds in shrouds,

There’s no room.

Weeds eradicated,

Pests eradicated,

Vermin eradicated,

Eradicate the fate,

There’s no room.

Opher 13.4.2018

There’s no room at the inn of nature. We’ve taken every available space.

A million weary creatures are looking for a place to lay their heads, find sustenance and give birth. They’re scratting around between the neat furrows of our lives and pawing over the detritus we leave in our wake.

Life is hard and getting harder.

Once they were part of a great cycle. They had their place. Now they are reduced to the position of pest and hounded for their lives. Each new year that passes brings another weapon to assail them with.

There is no place where they can belong.

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