Sorting by

Skip to main content

Cathedral elms once graced our street
Before they cut them down.
As rot seeped into greenery,
On came the chain-saw sound.

Cathedral elms were God’s sure sign
Our way of life was true,
Their Gothic-arching branches seemed
To point us straight to You.

We lived our lives in sweet green shade,
All summer we stayed cool.
Our trees constrained the fiery sun
From scorching every fool.

Our trees are gone. The sun beats down.
There is no summer shade.
Our church split—now we fools can see
The desert we have made.

Photo by David Goulding on Unsplash

Steven Peterson

Steven Peterson is a poet and playwright living in Chicago. His recent poems appear in Alabama Literary Review, America Magazine, The Christian Century, Dappled Things, First Things, The Windhover, and other journals. His plays have been produced around the USA. He is currently a resident playwright at Chicago Dramatists. His first collection of poetry, Walking Trees and Other Poems, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.