Treescape (Poetry)

I will miss these trees
their shapes and shades
more constant through the years
than many friends
who’ve come and gone
through circumstance
their faces fade
uprooted
they moved on

But these staunch trees
stand tall outside
bear every gale and drought
the weather brings
reliable
their hearts are stout
I count on them
to be there without
fail

And when eventually
the men with axes come
(as I fear they surely will)
to murder for the sake of some
cheap housing scheme
I’ll lie awake
remembering
and hear the wind go searching
for familiar shapes
bemoaning sudden absence
its whistle keen
with loss