The sacrificed and the saved

People, happy to think of themselves ‘conservationists’, have wrought death to infant trees to resurrect the bog, a Bruegel-like ‘Massacre of the Innocents’ in the snow.  The blood- ochre roots of pulled up saplings orange against white. Behind the arbitrary boundary fence- a liminal between life and death- the plantation of the saved stand silent witness to the slaughtered metres away.

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