The Last Tree

A pretty oak sits outside my window pane in the snow and in the rain Covered with life, outside the balcony fifty steps away Decorating the tree with flashes of red, black, grey, yellow and white, are his friends the cardinals , squirrels , chickadees and the tufted titmice They sing , chirp, and chatter in harmony of song As the seasons pass, we live thru heat, drought , cold and rain all year long I keep my feeder close at hand and watch as they load up in waves of two and three to make their run at the seeds and grain The leaves are green now and vibrant with life, in the fall the acorns grow and my tree stands tall At winter they covet the warmth and provide a shelter for the thick furred grey squirrels A lovely little hole in the crook of the branch big enough for two to snuggle and borough They race down these pathways in the sky, playful as skilled acrobats October mornings the leaves are falling , making noisy whispering sounds the first rays of sun turn frost into a million twinkling stars on the ground The two winged take refuge in their nest , built carefully for warmth and rest To nurse and raise their young , making them fit for another generation of the best The seasons flow as a quiet pond and like our beautiful life everything is real with very little strife Among the colorful citizens of this merry place I give life in equal exchange for joy and a chance To sit and watch my friends as I grow old and enjoy life in the sun But life changes, very unfair , and I am denied my playground in the sky one day some men came and cut all the beauty down Now its gone all butchered and bare nothing left but a big hole in the ground