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Untitled
Lights bless rolling hills. Dew glistens grass.
Trees shiver welcome. Leaves ride wind.
And I, proud, tap buds to bloom.
They fall. Buds bounce on rot root.
Trees drowned. Leaves flown away.
Hills from garbage. Grass, a mockery.
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This is a sijo poem. It is based on the idea of mother nature being proud of her work, and then finding out it has been polluted.