Green fronds a curtain in the sky
Your branches stretched towards the light
So thick the birds all shelter there
And to the hanging feeders fly.
But ragged needles grow too high
Lawn struggles in your generous shade
Not trees, but hedge, was our demand
( Although the birds will wonder why)
Arboreal surgeons do their best
To slice and prune and chop the trees
And leave a flat-topped hedge instead
But still enough for birds to nest
Or, seeking sanctuary, they hide
And wait for suet, seeds and nuts
That hang from branches lower down
While we look on with grateful pride.