The Frowning Ground

The foliage was turning golden in the autumn light 

grazing cows were lazily munching lunches

and in the forest aged logs lay prone upon the soil

nourishment for grubs and belching beetles

overlooked by benevolent trees and rustling leaves 

whispering soulfully to a melancholy breeze 

scared by the sight of an angrily emoting mountain

belching smoke and flame into an ashen sky 

at gas pipelines, loggers, oil drillers and coal mines. 

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