Grandfather Elm

Old grandfather elm,
Stately tree,
That extends its limbs
Harmoniously,
Shaded us
For years in the past,
Shielded us
From the solar blast,
Will leaf no more.
It starkly stretches
Into the sky;
Each bare branch etches
A grim goodbye;
Its cankered bark
Becomes its shroud;
To raking winds
It never bowed.
It stands--self-mourning,
Sturdy stave--
Beruned with rucks
That mark its grave.
When will they come,
The men with saws,
With cranes and chippers
And steely jaws?
To hack old Ulmus
Into wedges,
Hefty chunks
With clean-cut edges,
Load and truck them
To the dump,
And leave behind
A naked stump.