Requiem for the Trees

If it is 

true that we are all 

connected in the universe 

and on our planet 

twirling through the vast expanse, perfected

gases to support its fauna and its flora,

and if the plants have real intelligence, much more

than what we'd previously thought,  let me make it clear that no tree 

lost its life so that my Christmas would be beautiful.

There have been years, I must confess, when we went to a place where murdered pines

were strung up like so many pungent hams, and brought one home, the lifeblood sap

adhering to our hands and to the floor and ornaments. And we have gone into the 

woods and claimed a tree that when it woke that morning, couldn't guess 

that it was destine for the axe. But since my husband bought a bargain tree in size and price some years ago,with fold-out needles and a plastic stand, no authenticity nor planti-cide have we been guilty of,except of course, for certain weeds outside, and all the houseplants I allow to wither,

never hearing their last and anguished cries,

their gasp, 

their curse, 

their strained good-bye.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014