The Morning I Wish to Wake to

To see the sequoias as plaintiffs,
angry litigants calling their cases
from shattered stadiums.
This is the morning I wish to wake to.

To hear the echoed chants of horns
dying on the world’s tongue;
when the roads have ceased to roll;
when the highways are overrun.

After the girders have melted
down to rusted rivers,
and redwoods thrusting their accusation

to a patient sky, are satisfied.
When we put away our golden axe
and move to less immediate forms.