Except

If logged trees fall to earth just as glad

As when they upheld the keys to the sky

They, like lungs, are quite exceptional

 

For a newspaper lying upon a table flat

Exception has none of that powerful ring

It’s the contradiction that fears the truth

 

And words are there, bold typed on a page

Honest as the writer pinged for a gander 

At felled trees lying about, not like waste

 

At the back of a tree plantation’s car park

From where the lobbyists speak in secret

They had drunk to the health of the rip saw

 

Add sweaty pirates returned from logging

This afternoon blocked a greenie flirtation

If only the underlife had hung around

 

And tree rings are as important to the mind

As the discomfort that had left it

Somewhere, something is exceptionally sad.