Ode to an Elm

The reigning elm so favored by

the sky greeted the morning

as it did every day

with branches waving excitedly

and lavish leaves wide and gay

Good Morning Sun!  Hello Day!

The green leaves danced in

the breeze and shimmered

in the sun’s golden rays

Proud and Tall, content to

be a tree and greet the day

then the men came with

their truck and chipper and saws

i watched them move about

ignorant of my eyes, a job

to do to earn their pay

and work they did like ants

attacking a fallen fly, helpless,

unmoving, now their prey

without thought or hesitation

men climbed the three main trunks

to reach the leaves above

and as they climbed, the tree

shook in fear and confusion

The saws roared to life

with a scream and a buzz

and while a tree can feel

no pain, I could tell with

a sense beyond the five that

that tree cried in hurt as

one by one its branches fell

and when the men finished those

three main trunks stood so

naked, so bare, like arms

reaching to the sky, why?

Oh, why? Like arms with

 hands removed, awkward

amputated arms. Why, oh Why?

Then the men stood along a fence

with one foot up and bellies

Hanging over their belts, a

cigarette in hand, admiring

their work. A fine job they

had done, yes-sir-ree

had they left the tree

would have lived, grown anew

branches and flourished again.

I felt it standing there

naked and bare

amputated and mutilated

a skeleton of wood

but still alive though with

pain and confusion

fighting to stay a tree

had they left, only had they left.

When the cigarettes were done

 and the one foot came back down

to the ground, the saws revved

and roared once again.  Thankful

was i the tree had no ears

two men attacked the trunks

with expressionless faces and

two more fed branches into the

chipper that chopped and shredded

them onto dust, thus the

four reduced this wonder of nature

to bits and pieces and fragments and chips

to be used for pulp to stew into paper

or spread around some garden some day.

And when it was done, their

truck full of mulch, the four

men had indeed earned their pay

now, only a stump is left where for

nearly a century that happy Elm

greeted the day

since before the four men were born

before their grandfathers had anything to say

that proud tree greeted the day

No, nothing of left of that

beautiful Elm except this poem

and the paper it is written on

How i wish there was

Some Other way