As I crested the hill, I gasped for air.
The climb had been steep
And my aging lungs...inept.
My reward was an arboreal oasis!
I sat down, gladly, to gather my breath,
On a seat-shaped log from a fallen tree.
Regaining consciousness, I looked around,
Amazed at the tree trunk cross-sections,
The whorls and swirls of hard timber,
Strewn hither and thither across the ground.
Nascent chairs, tables, and sideboards
Were left there exposed to the elements,
Their potential lay unrealised, unassembled.
I had stumbled into a woodland graveyard!
There were tell-tale signs of a circular saw-
Dismembered victims from a long-dead war-
Great hunks piled randomly at the side of the road.
A dangerous tree had been brought down to size!
It was enough that this tree-trunk was out of the way.
We’ll save conservation for another day!
Leave all the bits to lie just where they fall,
We’re living in Yorkshire, after all!
Like the stories of my life, the chunks were laid out
Haphazardly, fruitlessly filling an empty space.
Each section had arrived there just by chance.
An abstract artwork installation, depicting
The randomness of Fate.
This tree was no longer heaven bound,
But at least its essence was still around!
Perhaps, light-headed from my dizzying climb
Or overcome by poetic sensibility,
This vista assumed a sudden beauty.
It was ‘Nature framed in a tranquil scene,’
It was ‘An Indolent Giant’s Final Jigsaw,’
Damien Hirst’s ‘Deconstructed Tree,’
And at least the brute hadn’t fallen on me!