This poem was inspired by the sight of this great fallen tree. Silently fallen, the great oak tree, Old age witness of secrets past, Lying rootless in the grass. Branches, the old panoply, Caught in the wind like tangled hair, Dragged its giant body down. No rustling of leaves, Nor bending in the breeze. Centurion of time, a guard no more. O shepherds of the trees Where art thou, gentle guides, To lead the feeble herd? The enemy wields the air Against the dawn of time, Scheming onslaughts, mercy-free. The trees in our local park at this time of year As ents of old went to their doom, Wake up and fight for all things green! Let black sights move thee to obey To sound the horn, “arise, assail!” For truth foretold and endless day, Dawn breaking through the darkest night. For verdant pastures, trickling streams, From death's dark vale to jubilee! For worth eternal, endless glee, Purest laughter after rain, Li
A pessimist's pursuit of joy