factory morning ☆ this wound in nature

That morning

When the kids drove up the mountain 

The factory walls were thick and coated 

with morning fog

The cars racing

Some shiny dear thing

Lay in the middle of the road

These streching pavements, this split

This wound in nature

Is where

They found him

That furred soft little body

Still warm

But not breathing

The kids walked to the house on the hill

With the old woman and old man

They told them of the gushing

The cut down trees

Cut down hope 

And the kids told them what happend

And the old ones cried, and went ahead

Walked up the stones to that pile of blood

Bowed down on their knees

And wrapped another loved one 

In his favorite cloth