By Bob Dougherty
I grew in an ancient forest
a pine tree standing tall
my era ended long ago
it’s eons since my fall.
Plunging in a primordial swamp
deep into ooze so cold,
time and pressure transformed my wood
to coal that’s mined for gold.
I wake to clanging of machines
devouring earth I know.
Yet, in man’s hunger for my soul
burns an ominous glow.
Leave me in my intended tomb;
don’t take my corpse to burn.
If ghosts of eons gone go free
we’ll haunt earth’s every turn.
The carbon cycle in balance
sustains the world you know.
Heed the signs of nature’s stress
and live by what they show.
I grew in an ancient forest
a pine tree standing tall
my era ended long ago
it’s eons since my fall.
Plunging in a primordial swamp
deep into ooze so cold,
time and pressure transformed my wood
to coal that’s mined for gold.
I wake to clanging of machines
devouring earth I know.
Yet, in man’s hunger for my soul
burns an ominous glow.
Leave me in my intended tomb;
don’t take my corpse to burn.
If ghosts of eons gone go free
we’ll haunt earth’s every turn.
The carbon cycle in balance
sustains the world you know.
Heed the signs of nature’s stress
and live by what they show.