Accountant

We love to make lists, To describe, name, number. How can it have value, If not on my list. As logger I stand Before the green forest, The numbered trees Are ones to cut. The forest cut down Is only to me Bigger box to live in, A shiny new car, The species I slaughter Are not for my count, They appear on Another mans list. Naturalists say We'll not care to, Protect animals We're not taught To love. But lists stand appalled At life in the forest, So long they peter In our dismay, Jaguar, Lemur Capybara, Agouti Blue Morpho Butterfly, Tree Toed Sloth. Tapirs, Ocelots Even Kin Ka Jous, Countless insects Eagles and bats. Scarlet Macaw, Reptiles, amphibians, Snakes and lizards Too many to count. Epiphytes, bromeliads The Bougainvillaea Ferns, moses, lichens, Quite without number. Two thirds of flowering Plants are found In rainforests Going on lists adinfinitum But do you really care. Capitalist drivers Economy must grow Making it cheap To maximise profit. Palm oil a desert Hard wood for looks Till next years fashion Changes the rolls. Who can make lists Play the accountant, If the bottom line Only shows human worth. How many species are Bought for ten dollars, Balanced in columns Of profit and loss. What accountants Hand or eye could Frame the aeons That go to create The beauty Of the ecology of life. Tiny movement On the wicker chair Jumping spider Catches the eye, Instant spring Strand to strand. All its being Compact perfection, Taut intent In the moment of life. Awed to wonder Begs the question, How can anyone Cut the rainforest That I learn is, Though never will see.