I just talked to an old ent
whose limbs were all twisted and bent
he, too, had old nobby knees
which creaked in the winter breeze.

He told me of the forests past
how they lived and how they passed.
The telling brought sap to his eyes
(that ents cried was a surprise)

He talked of giant fairy rings
he talked of oh so many things.
But mostly he talked about the trees
his voice was low, almost a tease.

He told tales of ancient oaks
now gone and hauled off by ox yokes.
He spoke of them like long lost friends
who one day had reached their ends.

Then he talked of chestnut trees
all killed off by some disease
brought here from a far off shore.
They'll not be seen any more.

Next he spoke of a beechnut on a bluff
whose bark was smooth and white and tough.
He smiled recalling how one day
lovers carved their names then went their way.

His gruff voice just went on and on
departing tales of those both here and gone
until the sun sank toward the west.
Then he said "Come back, I'll tell the rest."

I left then but as things often go
time passed and the years would flow.
When I Did return at last
there was no longer a forest ,vast.

The shepherd left when his flock fell
replaced by an industrial pine hell.
That ent will never come back here.
I'll never more his tales hear.....