Beneath the jewelled canopy,
The earth shakes as the tiger roars,
A feeling of pure placidity.
But then the rumble sweeps through the trees,
A rumble they've grown to dread.
With a second to spare, life or death,
Splitting up and they all run ahead.
It swipes and burns,
Chops and kills,
The forest is dead,
Leaving bare dirty hills.
If the creatures dare to abandon their hiding,
A terrible sight will meet their eyes,
The forest, their home,
Chopped and burned under sunset skies.
The fate that met them that day,
That caused them to run and hide,
Their homes vanished and empty,
I'm sure they'd rather have died.
By Rachel Finn (2006)
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