Ode to An Ent

Dedicated to my neighbor, who hired a crew to start cutting down his trees at 8-frikken-o’clock in the morning. This is what you get. An ode to an Ent.

The sounds of tree-death

Continue late into the day.

The Ent screams, but no hobbit

Is there

To listen or give succor.

The ringwraiths weep

For their forgotten souls.

As e’en swift drops

Even chains on saws

Soon fall silent.

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