Rosefirewalker’s TeaGarden

And the silence is deafening
By Diane Tegarden
September 22, 2009
Once the Grove was filled with trees of huge dimension,
their lovely limbs interlaced to create a shady arbor,
an escape from life’s travails,
it offered both peace and meditation.

But decades pass and trees become over grown,
hung low with the weight of fruit from peach and orange
their blossoms fragrant
in spring and summer time.

The fire season looms large in our minds,
reminding us that the Eucalyptus and Oak,
Pepper tree and Palm,
will light up like torches and destroy our cozy home.

We are the caretakers of this Grove
with mighty Norfolk pine, and twisted Cypress.
We owe them a trimming to lighten their burdens.
Something must be done.

The Grove housed a cacophony of life;
the crows with their raucous caws,
the mockers with their never ending variety of calls,
the doves cooing gently, as hummers industriously buzzed blossoms,

myriad tiny birds twittered, as bees hummed from flower to flower,
the squirrels chittering away, vying for food
from the oaks and avocado,
as green waves of squawking parents raced overhead.

After the trees were trimmed
our yard was buried in debris,
the trees decimated with nary a branch
to lift their a lovely limbs to the sky.

The “arborists” were merely hacks, not tree artists,
but butchers with saws and knives.
Afterward I felt guilty
and sick with remorse.

Now, blunt burning sun
beats down on the hard packed ground
our lawn burned to cinders,
the trees barren and silent.

The life tortured out of all living things,
no birds sing and now,
the woodland creatures stir no more.
And the silence is deafening.