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The Pear Tree

It lay as it fell
The old pear tree
I tried to count the yearly rings
But they were too much for me.

For over sixty years it grew
Standing in the field
And every creature benefited
From its fruitful yield.

No hand of man had felled her
T’was nature brought her down
And now the shattered trunk and limbs
Have stained the pasture brown

The might trunk, decayed within
Concealed the deadly rot
The seeming sturdy ancient tree
Was sicker than we thought.

Against the run-in shed it fell,
Thank God that beam was sound
I feared I’d find the shed as well
Collapsed upon the ground.

I did not see the rot creep in
The outer bark seemed true
Each spring I’d see the buds appear
And then the flowers too

But rot was eating her inside
I guess the signs were there
But like a fool, I’d missed them all
Moved past them, unaware.

And now there’s nothing left to do
But move the broken wood
And burn to ash this ancient tree
That once gave so much good.

Perhaps I’ll look at what is left
To find a piece that’s free
And clean of soul destroying rot.
I’ll carve a memory.

In life’s relationships I know
I need to look for signs
Lest rot, or apathy, set in
And life gets undermined

A piece of wood from a broken limb
Should not be what I hold
When wife and children gather here.
Those moments are pure gold.

I’ll strive for more as I grow grey,
To love, and understand,
And tell this tale of the old pear tree
As I hold my grandchild’s hand

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