There was a tree, tall and proud and strong.
Its leaves were a canopy from sun and rain.
Its arms stretched out to Heaven while the robins
sang from the safety of its branches in tune
with the busy woodpecker’s beak
boring a hole on a rotting limb.
Branches fell, one by one,
to our neighbor’s annoyance.
They endangered the car parked under its shade
and our garden on the other side of the hedge.
So it was declared decrepit
past its usefulness and grace
without future and hope, it was best spared
the slow painful withering from old age.
Then one morning, the woodcutters came
and branches fell under their serrated blade.
What of the rings imprinted on its chest
and the wisdom hidden there by the years?
Discarded as maudlin sentiments –
what hold do they have against convenience?
I am late, very late for last week’s challenge, THREES. However, the idea for the post did not come to me until much later when I saw the Maple Tree on the neighbor’s yard being cut down. Please click the link for more Threes.