The Tree

The chainsaws growl and fart
Among the branches tall
The great tree’s torn apart
And branch by branch it falls
While grim-faced men below
With hooks and metal chains
Make the log pile grow
And all the while it rains
It’s rotten is that tree
It must come down, they said
And sadly only me
Feels grief because it’s dead
The chainsaws growl no more
The men have all gone home
I sit here on the forest floor
Silent and alone…

©Jane Jago

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