Textured bark of a sawed down tree
Reshaped mahogany that you see
Was once a mighty lung for earth to breathe-
Now holds your wall together easy.

Tilting the lens away, keeping steady; in a close encounter with the wood.
‘We, owe nothing to anyone’, though true;
Makes no sense when you **** he very house you ought to live in'
Slash n burn, felling, charcoal making -
But it is turning the hill into a naked land.
Dusty roads, lack of water, scorching heat in the summer and seething cold in winters, all extremes unsuitable for the living.