Estahakee— The echoes of the jungle that once covered this place can still be heard, so long as one learns to listen. It lives where the armies of grass-cutters are not enlisted; where man does not wage his turf-war upon the land. Let us deliver a righteous, prolonged cease and desist to the mower-men so that the jungle may roar back to life.

Let us summon our avian aerial support. They will decide, in short order, where the jungle will grow and what species will comprise its ranks. May they fire their seed-laden shits from the sky, like a phosphorous rain, an eco carpet-bombing.

Summon the light infantry: the persistent tree planters, the trusty squirrel division, they will restore the canopies of live oak. They will work day in and day out for nothing but a handful of acorns, a price we can certainly afford to pay.

Lay to rest our mowers, wackers, edgers, trimmers, blowers, and saws, so we may listen to the jungle sing.
Boca Raton, FL. 2018.

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