Give me that old time religion

 On a rising wind

Distant drumming begins

listen and take heed

You mortal men

Ancient druids whisper low,

"Earth's rhythms, you do not know.

Polluting streams and burning skies,

Your greed destroys, with reckless sighs.

The ancient oaks, they stand and weep,

Their whispers echo in endless sleep.

The winds howl loud, a mournful sigh,

As humans ravage, with a blinded eye.

Awaken, mortals, to nature's plea,

Lest the earth, in ruin, be.

The balance shifts, the future's told,

In harmony with nature, you'll unfold."

Snow plows

 Bastards

I awake in the night

to the sounds of the snowplows

blocking my driveway.

I imagine their maniacal

laughter as they pull away