Ash Trees

When the ash trees are cut and dying,
from bug
and stacked to dry—there is love.

When the top soil is eroded and gone,
from man
the earth dry bone—there is love.

When we can no longer eat river fish,
from poison
that killed eagles—there is love.

And so on—until only love remains.

about the author
Ashley Bunton is a student at Antioch College. When she isn’t studying, she writes poetry and creative nonfiction.

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