The Fallen Forest

Towering oaks and a prickly pine;
stand tall by a hut with fires inside.
The sight of it all is truly divine;
yet doesn't compare to sun on lakeside

Birds be twittering high in the treetops;
ruffling feathers and searching for prey.
Thou glance skyward and what is found, but scaups;
Quacking as they soar north towards the bay.

As spring comes ever nearer flowers do grow;
such beauty they bring to dampened forests.
Red, white and yellow erupt from the snow.
All of its wonder absorbed by tourists.

Yet now all has vanished, this is the end.
We now have done something we can not mend.