There is a tree
Outside my window
That scratches
On my walls.
My father says
It must come down
Before it breaks
And splinters.
But this tree is
Young and wild,
And not at risk
Of dying.
So why must we
Cut it down?
It has so much
To live for.
I’ve seen the
Squirrels who
Sleep in its branches,
And the bugs who
Feast on its leaves.
I’ve seen the ants
Who crawl along
Its bark and the birds
Who eat its seeds.
So what of the life
It lives?
Is such a thing
Enough to keep
This tree from dying?
I wouldn’t know,
Since all I know
Is how to keep from
Crying.
Its bark is strong,
Unlike its bite,
Though maybe it
Doesn’t have one.
But the birds and bugs
Might stay and fight
To protect its fate.
Maybe that’s its
Blessing.
It has the breath
Of all who live
In or around
The tree.
If I can see
Its mind and body,
Maybe I can
Be another
Of its protectors,
And I can
Change its fate.