Elegy to a giant
A great silent giant was felled this year
And no-one much seemed to shed a tear.
The great mother beech, there since the war,
Has had all its days and is no more.
I counted the rings, as old as me.
But unlike me, good for a century.
It took a day, maybe a bit more:
Just two cheerful blokes with a chainsaw.
They did the unnecessary deed
While agreeing there was no need.
I think all their jokes were just cover.
They knew the job, and would have spared her;
So they claimed, yay, so they claimed, but who’s
To know if they care what they lose?
They will never see the autumn gold
And will never hear the tales it told.
Tough funny guys with all their gear;
They gather it up and disappear.
Strangely, the owners disappeared too –
Best not to watch when bombs drop near you.
The excuse they proffered – was there one? –
It cast some shade and cost them the sun.
But then they erect a canopy
Is that really better than a tree?
A tree that’s stood for seventy years
Seeing children’s dens and children’s tears
Providing sustenance and shelter,
Nests, resting and food for all manner
Of animals with or without flight
Then there’s ferns, lichens and bryophytes
All these denied for a whim of one
Father who feels deprived of some sun.
A tiny part of the year maybe,
For a nature-loving family.
Or so the mother once claimed to me
So she claimed, yay, so she claimed to be.
People love nature on the TV
But better let it not directly
Get in their way or then you will see
A ruthless disdain for wild beauty.
© RM Meyer
Winswell Water, January 2021