the Italian cypress

the Italian cypress had to go
near three times the height of the roof
it stood pointing to the sky – aloof
swaying a healthy ‘to and fro’
but the Italian cypress had to go

when it was a small and pretty tree
perhaps it had seemed to make more sense
to plant it there between house and fence
as it could be viewed in its entirety
a green and lovely little tree

but now it was a towering mast
too much tree for too little space
simply put, it was out of place
and so this day would be its last
the date being booked, the die being cast

at seven a.m. there appeared a truck
and out stepped a small and wiry man
with rope, and belt, and saw in hand
the cypress had run out of luck
an easy mark, a sitting duck

in a few short hours they’d cut her down
this fast and most efficient crew
the chainsaw roared, the branches flew
and upon inspection all I found
was a patch of sawdust on the ground

I told myself… ‘It’s the way of the world –
the old must make way for the new.
besides, its absence makes for a better view.”
then I caught sight of a little squirrel
who seemed perplexed as he dodged and whirled

searching for what used to be,
looking left and right, and up and down
and at the sawdust on the ground
perhaps he wondered why he could not see
the tall Italian cypress tree

my mouth turned into ironic smile
this nuisance tree, so out of place,
that marred our lovely living space
was something other all the while …
a creature’s happy domicile