Sat chanting and handclapping around the campfire
at the edge of the treeline
with bongos, didgeridoos, fiddles and mandolins.
It’s a clear-skied half-moon
looking down upon their nocturnal shenanigans.
A merry, musical celebration of life
in preparation for the storm the morrow brings.
At Dawn they’ll be chaining themselves to tree trunks,
locking the entranceways to narrow earth tunnels
to stop the heavy ‘Diggers’ traversing the ground.
Whilst up high on tree platforms will be the yellers
“Don’t Save 4 Minutes Off Your Drive Time,
Protect Our Ancient Woodlands Instead!”
“Do You Understand How Long It Takes
To Form A Natural Hedgerow? And The Complicated,
Intricate Eco System Supported There Within!”
There’ll be policemen and hard-hatted overseers
directing and controlling the immoral yet legal eviction
of angry and upset yet peaceful protesters.
Who have simply had enough and are disgusted
by The Machine… which concretes all within eyesight,
replaces sunsets with golden arches
and demolishes and tarmacs all that was living and green.