Old launch photo, trying for size.





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.