"I come from a time where the burning of trees was a crime,

I lived by a sea where to be was a thing of true

joy

My people were fair and had sky in their hair

But now they're content to wear stars on their brows."

- Marc Bolan and Tyrannosaurus Rex, track 12: Frowning Atahualpa, from the album of the same 47 words quoted above, 1967 (same as me!) -

Now Marc I am sad to say that I am happy you went away.

Don't come back, don't return to see

How far we've fallen, neither starry browed or even content, we
are no longer your people, we
are killers of trees

for profit.

And loss is all we know.

Of Innocence.

Of Joy.

Of Home.

Of Hope. . .

Almost.

Though the stars have fallen from our heads to the ground
their light dazzled our eyes on the way down.

Some of us (the round bellied Mothers of Earth and wild children of sky, the tales who walk like men,

the friend of children, the strange ones with light in their eyes) can see the value of a tree is found not in coin but friendship.

Dusky bark that was once transformed by light
heaped now in chunks hewn from life
upon the dusty ground, you hurt my sight.


"To the Eyes of a Miser a Guinea is more beautiful than the Sun & a bag worn with the use of Money has more beautiful proportions than a Vine filled with Grapes. The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way."

-William Blake, snipped from his (in)famous August 1799 correspondence to the Revd Dr Trusler-

This post dedicated to the Pine tree next door, felled today. You improved not only our view but our spirits.