December 2021
Author's Note: The poem that follows, with my respectful apologies to A. E. Housman (as noted below), is clearly not about reforestation-- at least not in the usual sense. But it may have something to do with the trees that share the planet with us, and how we keep energetically replacing them with caricatures that could be considered comical—if they weren’t so unnerving, and profoundly unlovely.
Tackiest of Trees
—with abject apologies to A.E. Housman
Tackiest of trees, the power poles
festooned with latticed rigmaroles
ascend our flowery hill like troops
of power-hungry nincompoops.
They speak a tongue not formed from leaves,
but from the buzzing in their sleeves
after a downpour, which converts
to hissy-fits in Megahertz.
Something’s ruthless in the look
of them, the zeal with which they wreck
the view—transforming countryside
to grid, forever uglified.
©2021 Marilyn Taylor
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