haiku.blog
A new day a new haiku
—
by
Why can’t we use trees To transmit our electrons Instead of pylons
Half a silver moon Tis not my land anymore Hanging in the gloom
We cut down forests Or tangle them up in wire We call it progress
We rise from the dirt Tangled in our own conceit Let the brambles win
Where’s the line between Construction and destruction? Progress or decline?