fauxcroft

Through the woods he walked,

Tall and lean and dark of hair

Striding as if he had no care,

Until he heard a faint sound

Arising from beneath the ground,

He stopped and waited

With baited breath,

Then suddenly he felt roots

Grip both his legs,

He fought and struggled

Gritting his teeth,

This man who operated the machines,

That was used to cut down all the trees

And now those trees were taking revenge,

For all those now just logs

Must now be avenged

And as they pulled him down and under,

Below the soil to his horror yet wonder,

That this could be happening to him right now

In this dense wooded glade,

He then felt the rain and heard the thunder

Softening the ground he was being pulled under,

Now just arm and shoulders and his head

We’re above the rotted leaf mould soil,

He continued to struggle and to toil,

Trying hard to pull himself out

But the outcome was never in doubt

And as he tried to shout aloud

His sounds were muffled as his head

Disappeared underground,

Until there was finally no more 

Except a hand reaching, grasping,

Til all air expired and there was no more gasping

And the tips of fingers then in futility 

Tried to purchase a grip,

Then gone they were too,

Along with the threat to the trees

For within this glade no one will breathe,

If they show ill to all here that be.