I guess I am old fashioned

I know I am 

I chose to be long ago

when I saw what was on the menu

a future formed in man’s own image.

Yet still I was surprised

three little girls and 

not boys, violently ripping branches

decimating three young new trees.

And in the pleasant, green, silent

suburbia they live in.

In daylight and for a laugh.

They did stop and shuffle away 

when they saw us.

But you could hear them chuckling

as soon as they thought we were gone.

I passed their destruction today.

Branches and foliage lying on the ground.

Some had put up a fight

their sap split open, sawdust coloured inners

spilling out but still hanging, attached

to their parent trunk.

  

Maybe these are the skills girls 

need to learn now.

To tear limbs from bodies

even if the older limbs –

those nine month ones 

lusting for life refuse 

to leave the womb, dead.

Such freedom we have  

in the winter garden, we are told.

A bumble bee hovered, witnessing this.

I swear the bee cocked it’s head and whispered

they say I shouldn’t fly but I do!

Not according to man’s laws  

but everything is possible with God.

Yes! even now in this winter garden

where pilgrims  will keep hope alive.