I think of that old tree, ( still dear to me,) like God’s fingers, clutching the earth - feeding below the canopy above ; but what have we made of it with man’s inhumanity, slicing the bole, felling as timber to have lost a canopy of love ? What have we made of it since then ? What have we done ? What shall we ever do - in the same vein when the whole forest has gone ? Plant for a sapling and hope for someone to kill and deify ?
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