Nuts

The branches of the oak tree, cloaked with
spagnum moss, realeases it's bounty upon the land which
we burn, and gouge; realentless torment on
the loamy forest floor, roams the deer mice
and the squirrels overhead flit through the trees
that burn with envy for the blackened sky
slay the cattle and scorch the fields
of ripened corn, glinting gold in the sun
rays blocked out by darkened poison
muchrooms loiter on fallen birches, conversing with
the enemies, we spy on them, we migle with
autumn leaves which were once an emerald
worth nothing,not but pain and
healing showers of spring rain chase out
heavy winters of feral wolves which hunt
innocence, personified by the speckled fawn
free and frolicking, prancing into
nothing like this barren waste
land of plenty and justice.