One Tree Bore Witness
on 472 in Oxford, PA
One tree filled with grief
still flourishing for lack of rain,
lined with overpowering filigree
as if a natural born identity,
a green barrier between Light and Darkness.
Now the drive a disgraceful barrier
of branches like bones,
each thrust of the axe condoned.
Once robins relaxed in their hold of shade
built nests on their sturdy limbs,
withdrew remarkable worms
from the concave moisture beneath.
Staying power and proof to bequeath
generations far removed
even those steeped in grief.
While the world goes on in a makeshift way,
an envelope of time dispirited not Divine,
no long inspired each Spring with nested opulence,
and leaves which carpeted a blanket of beauty everywhere.
Chagrined birds nowhere to fly,
but on electrified wire,
no more moonbeams dancing on a quiet lawn,
only shattered rainbows everywhere
in the halo cost of trees despaired
no division through the ranks of nobility,
keeping instead with new found glory in industry.
A Holocaust of trees.