Those mighty trees that spread their arms
were once as tall as you.
And none have felt the sweeping strokes
of what a saw could do.
Yet underneath those street-lined wings,
resplendent in strong wood
arise a row of rural homes
where once their brothers stood.
And though I’ll bask in summer shade,
I’ll feel a tinge of guilt.
We’ve lashed with hatchets many down
to yield what we have built.
“Quell those notions of demise,”
I hear an oak tree say.
“Look around at what we’ve done
and what you have today!”
“The forceful sounds of violins,
the sound of new guitars;
the look and feel of brand-new books,
the storage for memoirs.”
Perhaps you’re right, old friendly oak,
but this I strongly pray:
that all the trees upon my block
avoid the axe and stay.
Cleverly penned, Tim. Amazing write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thanks so much, Damian. :))
This is awesome buddy! Great read and so true!
It’s amazing what all we can gather from a tree. From shelter to literally the air we breathe!
Loved this!
Thank you so much Adelly. It’s always good to get your opinion and see your face on my page. 🙂
Rush’s The Trees came to mind while reading this.
Strong piece with excellent rhythm, rhyme and flow. Well done.
I was lucky enough to see Rush 7 times. I believe they played the trees 2 times out those. Thanks for the comment.
That’s pretty awesome. I did a whole Neil Peart tribute as part of the NaPoWriMo at DU back in 2021. That man was influential to musicians and writers.