In its past this aching lovely tree

Was pruned with heavy hands

And left with its weeping wounds to heal alone

Growing useful, monstrous, silent scars, accepted

As a kind of beauty on its own!

But, if you look close……

You’ll see just one scar still crying

Open there among the rest.

The lady sits there still in waiting, ready

To be shaped in new shades of beauty

By a gentle Sculptor’s pair of hands!

Gill McGrath.

(About a local tree. Part. Gnarled by pollarding) press the thumbnail for detail