A Towering Pine

For years it stood, doing as it should, as children did as they would.
Their voices raised high, with shouts and cries, below the mighty wood.
It spoke no ill, or sullen word, it simply swayed as it should.
Listen intently, to a soft summer’s day and  you might have heard its voice.

Its needles rustled, to softly sing, to the children playing at its feet.
Of strong summer squalls, it stood against them all, and shrugged against the heat.
When winter’s northeastern gales did call, it stood stoically to meet.
With snow laden branches, its rings did add, for year, after year, after year.

Until the day, when nature came to call, bringing a violent bolt of heat.
Our towering pine, stood to take this too, to protect those at its feet.
Too powerful is nature, when it comes to call, too unforgiving is its plan.
Our towering tree, took too great a toll, now weakened to its core.

More years did pass, but it grew no more, as this is the way of nature.
But stand as it should, for as long as it could, against the decline of time.
The towering tree, now teetered too much, against the force of gravity.
And in this way, the children came to pray, to a story told without rhythm.

They said farewell, to the tree known so well, for this is the way of nature.