Mammoth structures lined the falls
trim rose bushes painted gold
the woodland robin echoes calls
chestnut trees gray and old

These giant pillars, cresting wide
cool and dry and shading light
where forest critters go to hide
from weather's worst and chills of night

Hermit steps sidelong to glance
tiny tendrils creeping up
they wave in the wind's willow dance
and reach the blooming branches with colored cup

The hermit climbs the veering vine
up and away he disappears
to make his hovel quite divine
the gnarled branches grin and jeer

Struggles through the greening dense
shaping shoddy leaf and splinter
flames start weaving like iron fence
making warmth for the wild winter

Up in a torrential blaze
chestnut sways and buckles under
weight of the hermit's craze
and the elder tree snaps like thunder

Down they tumble, hot and hoary
to end up smoldered on the ground
closing up the hermit's story
yet nature goes on without a sound