A natural piece of art

Helpless a stump does sit suffering from decay, on the rugged part of the hillside, where loggers had cut away. Glorious the trees did stand, along the rocky ridge, as long as the eye could see, from the river to the bridge.

Time, and time again, their beauty had been praised, but the loggers saw had chopped their limbs in total disgrace.

I see a shameful reflection, in the look of a saddened tree, if only man had kept his values for all the world to see.

Carving away their flesh, to some is fine art, but where does wisdom lie in the work of a blinded heart? Preserving the world's forests, I would consider smart, for a healthy tree living so free is a natural piece of art.