The Cacophony of Destruction

The wind hears the dawn chorus

The sopranos, altos, tenors and bases, all singing their hearts out from the trees

It hears the grinding of the saws that cut those trees down.

The wind hears strumming

The cicadas and the beetles, the mellow strings hiding in the bushes

It hears the thump of the feet that trample those bushes flat

The wind hears booming, crashing

The waves beating the shore like a drum, the ocean churning

It hears the whir of the boats that spill oil in to the waves

The wind hears bubbles

The fish, like flutes, and oboes, and horns in the depths

The wind hears the splash of plastic falling, down, down, down

The wind hears the trumpets

The animals in the forest, calling out to each other

The wind hears the bang and pop of the guns in the forest

The wind hears everything

The symphony of life

The orchestra of nature

The cacophony of its destruction