That burl oak is a dear friend of mine,
Trunk and branches unfurl in curls it knows no straight line,
From tiny acorns grow the mightiest of trees,
But even healthiest hardwood can fall prey to drought and disease,
In the case of my favourite forest timber,
It's ailments create its beauty within her,
I fear the day tree surgeons with chainsaws conglomerate,
Working as a team to hack away and amputate,
An operation they deem essential to furnish a home,
And I'll be left to eulogize by way of sad poem,
Well the day came and went sooner than I expected,
Although one of the arborists was humbly elected,
To present me with four oak nuts in a spectacular burled box,
Meant as a mourning salve, I'll plant offspring near rocks,
Hoping to live long enough to see them stand taller than me,
This tree hugger will feed and care for the quartet to be,
When I'm long gone from this world I'll rest easy knowing,
This band of hearty deciduous will sing aloud leaves glowing,
My ancestors will take shelter in the shade of their canopy,
A family born of my old pals premature death tragedy.
~Farls Tokley