A Devastation Of Trees Poem by Lipstick Casanova

As I look out the window through the quivering trees,
I spy the frozen drip, picketed along barbed wire.
Beyond the crystalline fence, long thorny grass lies
In thousands of messy amber waves, held tight in winter's icy embrace.
Afar, beyond the branch-like mass of field, many a tree lay,
Broken and dying, with the rest bent in agonizing surrender
To the mercy of a torrid mixing between ice and water.
The mad howl of the monster wind, tears through the crackle and weep
Of the falling trees, from beneath their transparent cocoon.
Another top is broken, splayed by the picketed cessation of the water's flow,
Leaving the remnants spiked as if to stab the sky,
- Their cries so silent -
Until, yet another length of icicle smashes the ground
With an almost deafening crunch, leaving the shuddering tree bare
And the snowflakes float down, swirling amongst gravity's heavy hand.
This beautiful hell-on-Earth has raped every last bit of timber,
Stripping them of leaf and bud, twig and limb,
Reducing the magnificent to a mound of rubble in a single eve,
By lopping off limbs and castrating their very tops or tumbling over.
The trees will never be the same - never forget.
But will we?