What would trees say about all this?

Random Poem

• The Junk Man (Carl Sandburg)
  
  I am glad God saw Death
  And gave Death a job taking care of all who are tired
  of living:
  
  When all the wheels in a clock are worn and slow and
  the connections loose
  And the clock goes on ticking and telling the wrong time
  from hour to hour
  And people around the house joke about what a bum
  clock it is,
  How glad the clock is when the big Junk Man drives
  his wagon
  Up to the house and puts his arms around the clock and
  says:
  "You don't belong here,
  You gotta come
  Along with me,"
  How glad the clock is then, when it feels the arms of the
  Junk Man close around it and carry it away.
  
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