I heard it, the fall of an age old tree,
And was unexpected shocked.
Though I couldn't from where I stood quite see,
And my view of it falling blocked.

The moaning motor of a slavish saw,
Was the moment first aware.
That something great was to be no more,
Long been, no longer there.

The sound distressingly, of tearing wood,
Then collapse to a hidden heap.
Its loud creaking cry, then a toppled thud,
Left me contemplating deep.

A tree likely older than most alive,
More a claim than us to Earth.
Yet of life we chose it to deprive,
As if dismissive of its worth.

All who passed by, year-on-year,
Benefited from its cover and shade.
Admired its canopy when did appear,
And ever to it homage paid.

Would now have to bear a green loss grief,
Something loved now sudden gone.
No more this leviathan in leaf,
Upon which life-giving sun long shone.

Revealed, rich rings which mark its span,
As if a record to be played.
Hear season's sonata, we almost can,
A track for each year careful laid.

A stump will now mark this vanished friend,
For those who loved its full fan flourish.
And sad those will be at its early end,
No more to inspiration nourish.

I knew nothing of this tree before,
Or what remains left now it's lost.
Of its presence when loud with wind-wrought roar,
Saw to all weathers its ripe riposte.

But I heard it, the fall of this age-old tree,
And sense all it represented.
Perhaps victim to the whims of you and me,
To its fate resigned, relented.