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And now, for something completely different…

A buried head

If the trees can continue to breathe

refusing to bend

and bury their branches in the soil

to console their roots

in spite of the polluted air


they stretch and grow

believing there must be

something purer


higher up there somewhere


What right have we then

to bury our heads

in the sands of busyness

existing today

because we’re too scared

to believe in a liveable tomorrow?


A buried head

can’t see a future

or dream us a better world.

A buried head

is dead.