we build human habitats but leave no room for life
that's why I chop down trees and kill ant lines
a thousand thinkers speculate buildings with grass
a million artists let their vision die at the press
my own home might be a flawed creation dated over fifty
but a sprawling new community is built with less creativity

in their rush to shape acres homogeneous gables rise
but they omitted walkable centers where small business thrives
there are no theaters or points of interest
they exist to be speculative real estate traps
without a single reason to live in those plots

in the glare of a shadeless patio
I stood by branches felled
the size of their totality
was greater than my self
back to the chopping I reduced logs
to a size that would fit in our cans
for even in their disposal
I must fit life to engineer plans

yet as I destroyed spider homes
and broke down a place of shade
an eastern tiger swallowtail
investigated the breezy space
in the same location I held a fresh
monarch testing hours old wings

like the ants I am more than death
the tree's soil will house milkweed
tomorrow's summer will host flowerbeds
so that caterpillars can be birthed
as the inferno sputters I'll nourish soil
and help life on this punishing earth