Trees

[Ca ne fait rien]

The trees conspire in company
to cut the power to our house
for there is something in the woods
that hates electric wire
and trees have reason, certainly
to fear the reach of our desire.

The firs that circle round our place
seem confounded by the glare.
Our floodlights float a misty scrim
that dulls the ancient sky,
and when the power died tonight
I thought I heard a sigh.

I have no suggestions for improvement.
The poetical devices are well used, the rhymes and rhythms enhance the subject matter. The sonics suggest the wind in the firs, I can hear the sounds of the night in the trees. I can actually physically hear the night in the woods here, too, and I can relate to the poem. The trees here interfere with the telephone lines and thus my internet connection. Little animals have been known to gnaw through the electricity cables on occasion, too. I like the ambiguity and slight sinister tone to 'Something in the woods.'
I can also relate to how the floodlights 'dull the ancient sky', (splendid line btw, and sympathise with the sigh of relief to feel the darkness when the halogen goes out - (I have come to dislike light pollution of any kind interfering with the stars, and have been tempted to shoot out my nneighbours' security lights with an air rifle from time to time. Have resisted of course ) ).
This reader certainly likes this poem.