The Tree

The tree stands alone
in a field
They have hacked
at the roots
with machettes
at the trunk
with chain saws
Til a CRACK breaks
the silent afternoon hush
the branches waver
And shake and shake
Somewhere a crow caws
then with loud rush
Of sound its limbs
fold and fall
to the ground.
They grind the stump down
Back to the earth.
They think they have
done with her
But next spring
Hidden in the grass
several small shoots
appear attached
to deep roots
that struggle to rise
to the surface
to present new life
New trees and not just one
But many now
A forest rises
up from where one
tree reigned supreme.