I posted this on a poetry forum today...

Splinter now,my wooden heart,
the saw-mills have been hungry,
I linger desolate,apart,
in a climax of butchery.

On the sap-drenched forest floor,
the shattered limbs surround me,
multitudes of friends that bore,
the brunt of a chainsaw's glee.

Happenstance I remain for now,
alone in a birdless void,
age and wisdom in each bough,
by men in a day destroyed.

May 2012