Leaves whispered their goodbyes,
slender branches and trunks followed,
a heavy thud as they touched the ground.
The whole town felt the big machine,
its roar slicing piece by piece,
wood falling away.
Now a bare tree stands,
large bleeding branches without leaves.
Thick ropes stretch across its frame,
red-capped workers hurry,
a skeleton to bring down soon.
An unseen battle,
a crow flies across,
trying to save her baby at the top,
doubt in her cry, caw caw,
but she pushes on.
Below, people pull the ropes,
together they bring down the tree.
The crow reaches her baby,
just as it slips,
falling to the ground,
the ancient tree,
once a sanctuary to many.
Red-capped faces smile, relieved.
The mother crow perches on a nearby post,
her other chicks close by.
She stares at the fallen tree,
long and hard.
Then, whether cursing man or searching for food,
she flies away,
disappearing into the sky.
