Through my window, as I write,

I see the bright green leaves

of a cherry tree, the middle

and smallest of three.

Two spindly stalks with leaves

spring from a damaged trunk,

the main tower fallen to disease

and my well worn saw

The trunk bears a scar where

saw began to bring the whole

tree down, lest it's blight infect

the sturdier, stronger brothers.

But thought the better of it, did I.

Let's wait and see, perhaps she

will recover, bring forth more fruit,

and so she stands there still.