Acorn and Automobile [POETRY]

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When autumn comes,
And cold air creeps slowly in,
Then God the Holy Trinity
Reveals a wondrous work of art –
The exquisite acorns of the pin oaks,
Their grey bodies imbued
With a delicate blue blush,
And caps crowned with a fleshy white,
In smoothness and roundness
Nearly flawless, like a tree-grown pearl.
They fall in abundance,
A feast for the eyes
(And for the squirrels),
But the blind machine cares not.
The wheels of the one-ton automobile
Crush them without remorse,
Leaving upon the hard surface of the road
A greasy stain of flattened fruit,
Unmindful of its iconoclastic act.
Thus is mankind warned:
That machinekind will ruthlessly eradicate
The fruitfulness of the world,
Leaving it a barren, bloodless place
Whose new master race will be cold steel
Set in motion by combustion engine
And electric current,
Its only end to fill its metal maw
With the beauty of the world
And transform it into fuel
To keep its gears a-turnin’.