Rosher.Net

Under the oak we met, and played.
When Sun was hot, in shade we stayed.
It cooled the breeze, and branches swayed.
It served us well, and all unpaid...

But now today I look, dismayed.
This gorgeous tree has been betrayed.
Who felt they could, this oak, degrade;
Who's moral code has been mislaid?

Now not much longer will this glade,
With green benificence displayed,
Stand tall and mighty, unafraid.
I want to have those vandals flayed.

So sad. This fine oak stands in our playing field. A young semi-mature tree, I have no idea if it will withstand this barbarism. Or why.

We have few enough trees, nationally as well as in our village, and this one was a fine specimen with room to grow into full maturity, had it been allowed.

I’m quite keen on the last line…