A Kindred Loss

Survey the dappled light crawling on your skin  

Devour the songs from the birds that are like a symphony of frolicking violins  

Sense the prickling cold - the shapes that the shadows create 

Savour the natural flavours scented in the air as they conjugate 

Inhale the distinct odour that has swept the land as long as it has stood 

Years ago in this same spot 

Life surrounded me, but now it does not 

The body of the bush gone for good 

Yet the sad soul of the bush you can feel in the brisk breeze 

It whistles ‘why do this to us innocent trees?’