Colin F. Jones
IN HER FASHION
They cut the trees to build upon the plain
That is now a desert arid without rain;
That all they do is bellow and complain
And look for someone else to take the blame.
They divert the water from a distant pool
That they can drink and wash in its clear cool;
Then short of water the others take up their tools
To damn the river against these ignorant fools
That soon the peace is changed to fighting war;
The killing as vicious as any you ever saw
That blood not water flows on by their door
And there is not as many folk as there were before.
The wheel of life just turns as it has always done,
For nature once again, in her fashion, has won.
©Copyright April 28, 2005 by Colin F. Jones