Death of the Trees

Every workday, I have the pleasure of driving through the sight of high shaded trees that whispers when the wind blows and the sun glimmering between the leaves. Every season, flowers fall dotting the roadside with pink and white petals. And the trees seem to wave at me when I come and when I go.



But lately, termites have invaded and destroyed the barks of the once powerful trees. And we had to have them cut down. All of it. The sound of saw against splintering wood was anything but welcoming. I watched as they brutally removed them. The trees could but protest silently. Soon all that was left was a barren land, with the heat radiating back powerfully upon its conquered space. And the trees whisper no more. And the air stilled with grieve.