The clutch of trees in the middle of the fields
Winds blow across their boughs rattle the leaves
Protected by decree, as the town erupted around it
it remained, growing wisdom in gnarled woods
bark skin thick and outlasting the brutal
structures of the “garden city” designed by financiers
built to decay, rebuilt with each generation
foundations of pollution constructions without value
cardboard businesses shit plastic decisions written
in dust by the fingers of idiots and now a “developer”
eyes the ancient wood, overturns heritage to construct
an estate nobody can live in forever haunted by tradition