Grandfather Tree
By Heather Cady
Old gnarled tree,
Now you cringe.
Robbed of the glory,
Of those strong sapling years.
Sweet sap seeps,
Away.
And dead leaves fall,
Uselessly near.
Your bark is tired.
Peeling, wrinkling,
It bares the core of wood,
Left open for assault.
When all is said and done,
You waver and wait, alone.
For old trees,
Aren't good for much,
But chopping down.
The end is near,
Sweet sap seeps.