By Marcus Briscoe

Our cedar tree in the backyard
Well, not ours by a technicality of fences

Overlooked us in summer
and shaded our respite
Shrouded us in fall
and shunned the bitter wind
Provided shelter to the chipmunk
and to the crow in spring

Her familiar creaks one winter
To us a delight
Frightened the elderly neighbor
Who had known this tree for 50 years
Who had watched her grow and become
Majestic

Yet now her countenance served
More as liability than luxury
More fearsome than friend
Somehow suddenly an intruder where
She had for so long
been a member of the family

And one day
Without warning,
Without pomp or wake,
She was gone.
Efficient hands
Took her to the ground
And removed her lifeless body
Before the day was done.