We've tended to
the grasslands then harvests and feedlands then graveyards.
finally to cold roofs & chalky walls
and everything else we
left far beneath; under.
yet our prides soar above
our "beloved" earth of wonder.

We've seen,
the parched paves ,their anaemic blight.
meadows lacking dirt and grit
laden in rigid concrete glue,
scorched scruffily through & through.
cuts and clots in their veins of blue;
pestering plagues, burning drapes
and dismally rotten wells.

Yet we blatantly ask,
where are the lush greens
from the fables of yore ?
where are those trees
from the seeds never sown ?
where are the streams
that quenched our farms?
and where did all the scarecrows go?

They ran to the cities of gold.
formerly free,
now slaves and labours
bound by land & its decree.