Think before you fell a tree,
think again and let it be.
At the host, the very core
where trunk meets soil,
the secret zone; causes life to soar
as roots draw nurture as they coil.
Harshly is the felling done.
Wordless as a lamb
trees yield to gravity and succumb
through growth ring and limb.
Moments before a balanced frame
full of buds bursting to emerge.
Too late now to claim,
or respond to Spring's surge.
Winter's filtered sun, Summer's shade,
space empty now, gone years of history.
Memories over time will fade
leave only tree's mystery.
Excellent verse. I recall assisting a man laying a hedge. 'You have to be more brutal with the hatchet' he said. Somehow, I never could quite muster the requisite brutality!
I agree. I much prefer to leave the pruning to someone else. Thanks for your interest and comment.
Elegant and beautiful! Pregnant with Nature's love and sentiment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Winter's filtered sun, Summer's shade, space empty now, gone years of history. Memories over time will fade leave only tree's mystery..really, really a tree is a mystery. very often we dont think of it........ all that you write and present to us is so true dear poet. Tony
Thank you Tony. I have a huge love for trees and hate to them so carelessly cut down