Green Cathedral
My mother in home hospice phones crying
but let's not talk about the breast cancer.
Her tears for a tree are nothing new.
Now she's 97 but she was doing this in 1962
when she read Silent Spring by Rachel Carson.
It's the next door neighbors, she complains.
They cut down my green cathedral.
That old tree deserved to live.
They blame it for roof rot,
say it made moss get into the shingles.
But that tree was here before their house.
The tree was alive before Mildred built the house.
The majestic tree was alive before she was born.
It's older than me
and could have outlived us all.
That old tree's so huge, it took a crew of three all day to bring it down.
Never again will I gaze into its branches in bed.
I've loved that old oak most of my life
and don't want to be here when they decide
to cut down their other grand tree.
Copyright 2025 Ingrid Bruck
https://mikemaggio.net/ingrid-bruck/
Date Published: April 30, 2025