Here for ages beneath its branches
The tiny green shoot grow
He hides the blue sky from my view
limbs of the trees let snow and rain fall right on me
A heavy rough storm caused a crash
The gnarled tree was lying upon the ground
Over three hundred years have passed
The men came
Axes cut up the tree and carried all of it away
Hot summer days come
The sun beats down upon the old stone
The pretty rustling leaves were gone
Winter came
The old rough stone missed the leaves which fell around him
They Kept him warm
I Wish the gnarled tree would come back
Squirrels
Such knowing little creatures
Another might drop a nut which would grow into a lovely tree
Many more years passed
Never again did a tiny squirrel sit upon the old, rough stone
Never again did another tree grow