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There was a tree in my backyard
Swelled thick with New England's nurturing milk
It served me when days of knee scrapes and grilled cheese were commonplace
It sang through summer's languorous swelter
Offering respite to the feathered melodies that frequented its spidery, sturdy fingertips
In winter it hummed, shuffling off the caked-on snow
Summing the season up to a glaze of naked frustration
A small sacrifice for spring's paradise

As knees grew softer and palates finer
It sensed a coming coda
By spring's retreat
Its fears were consummated
The harbingers of decay came
With screaming blades
And within a minute's whisper
The song was ended

Castrated limbs wept with sap
The sun seared its wounds
Cauterizing the once mighty caregiver
And blessing its fragile branches
With all the mercy it could muster
With a cry of gentle defeat it fell
Returning to its mother's cradle
The final note a resounding tone
of glory destroyed

There was a tree in my backyard
Its memory beckons me
But the song is too faint to follow
Only a hollow of dirt and grief remains.