Poet, having read your words; I wanted you to know
that I can see the trees you planted as I chop down
the hardest wood  for my fires. I used the vacated
bird nests you guarded like a fanatic steward for kindling;
the birds having all moved into their new government
subsidized gated condo communities down south. Poet,
having considered your elitist and liberal metaphors; I find them
to be plagiaristic and cliché at best…and similar to the precious trees
you attempt to protect, they are a but another renewable
source of fuel for the woodchucks and beavers like me
who are in need of expressing an occasional Damn!
Poet, green is no longer just the color of envy
but in has become the color of your gods…
And because I am forewarned, I am so forearmed with knowledge
to defeat your poor examples and attempts at self expression.
Poet, having gone into the wilderness; hugged the trees and bunnies
you have still failed to silence the wind and blasphemous dissuader
who dehorts all of your creations as politics.
And although I am just a reader, you should know
I am not a believer in search of a cause….
2008 © T Sheridan