SKY COMING CLOSER
The sky is coming closer :
they have cut down the trees,
the disease has been spreading ;
innocent walkers' boots and shoes.
Larches still awaiting leaves,
gaps between them are blue
as bells of flowers ringing
out for rarely passing bees.
We have heard the motorbike
drone of many chainsaws.
Plastic wreath placed by the stream,
they are taking trunks for burying.
Despite all the barbed fences
the sky is leaping towards us
and lying under canopies of oaks,
leaving behind the growling blades.