In rivers’ gentle flow, they seek not water’s grace,
But extract sand for roads, displacing nature’s embrace…
With rocks they construct, forsaking rarest herbs,
In stone abodes, forgetting the forest’s curbs…
*
Once shading providers, trees fall for human needs,
Their canopies yield to mundane structures’ feeds…
On fertile fields, factories rise, leaving crops bare,
Nature’s bounty neglected, her cries fill the air…
*
Driven by greed, they plunder without heed,
Like killing the chickens for golden eggs, indeed…
Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News 
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