The Rustle

• Zac Robertson, Grade 3, Sydney Church of England Grammar School
• Poetry
• 2021

Finalist in the 'Play On Words 2021' competition

A rustle comes from a bush,
Something is calling my name,
A small voice in the wind,
Desperately crying for mercy.
I follow the voice into a clearing
Great! More trees to chop down!
But I do not take my chainsaw out,
A flood of remorse inside.
The creatures I see,
Are magical,
An ancient beauty,
Now struggling powerlessly toward nil.
For once,
I feel like the villain,
A destructive evil being,
Hurting helpless friends.